


The Extraordinary Life of Darcy Lewis (Much to her Fathers' Worry) - All in One

by Mysana



Series: The Extraordinary Life of Darcy Lewis (Much to her Fathers' Worry) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Slimmed down for your downloadable pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 31,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysana/pseuds/Mysana
Summary: An ongoing series of stories about Darcy Lewis. Includes: So much money she wants to cry, panic buttons, panic, losing said panic buttons, and Ladies Who Are Friends But Not Girlfriends.





	1. Darcy Lewis' Family

**Author's Note:**

> To those who have already read The Extraordinary Life of Darcy Lewis and are looking for more, very sorry, this is not for you. If you are like me and read all your stories offline and find it hard when they aren't all in one book, this is for you. 
> 
> I like to think that my tagging and notes are hilarious and adds to reading experience however they had been cut out of this version, so if you want the real deal you can find it here (http://archiveofourown.org/series/554794)

Darcy Lewis did _not_ talk about her mother. She didn’t speak about long nights alone in dark houses. She didn’t think about the way there would be a man with small baggies of white powder. How the men went away and her mother got mean. She didn’t think about how her mother was found, dead, in her own bed, by small 4 year old Darcy.

Darcy Lewis almost never mentioned the old woman that was a reprieve from the orphanage. She rarely spoke about the warm smiles and the cinnamon cookies and an old tv that was always full of static. She only spoke once about the way warm arms would curl around her after a nightmare and she would be safe. Darcy Lewis didn’t mention that the last thing she was left was the name - Lewis - before the old woman was taken away for being too old and Darcy had to go back to the cold rooms and thin blankets.

Darcy Lewis never really spoke about the orphanage in a way that was more than just a few words - an thoughtless reference. Never really spoke about empty stomaches and big kids who were mean because it was easy. She never really talked about the way she shared a bed with three other girls. How children sometimes disappeared. Some of them reappeared.

When asked about her childhood, Darcy Lewis spoke about two men. Two opposites like day and night. About the tall, beautiful man without manners and the soft blond man with oatmeal jumpers. She talked about how the soft man was ex-army, who always carried a gun and taught her to fight. She spoke about the tall man who fell asleep in random place, who taught her to observe.

When asked about her childhood she spoke of Dad and Papa. She didn’t know who ‘Father’ was after all. The man her mother spat at when she mentioned. Darcy Lewis was okay with that. After all, it Papa who taught her that it is better to be underestimated. It was Dad who taught her than the ones who are crazy see more than others. It was the two of them together that taught her that not all love is romantic. Some of it can’t be classified even. It was the two of them that also taught her that friends are more important than enemies but you should keep your eyes on both.

What Darcy wouldn’t mention was that Dad was the one who explained what the white bags of powder were, how to identify the spots on the the arm that identified addicts. The scars that were left in ex-addicts, scars that Dad had. Darcy didn’t mention that it was Papa who taught her than bra wires could be used as lock pick in case of kidnappings. Darcy wouldn’t mention that she knew how to shoot a gun and if she killed someone with it then it wouldn’t be the first.

She wouldn’t mention the nightmares that would haunt her forever. That she had PTSD before her GED. She wouldn’t mention the way that Papa had taught her that things aren’t always as they appear and that the impossible could happen.

In a world where there were giant green rage monsters it was Dad who showed her the impossible. In a world of gods and guns and Destroyers (with capital letters) it was Dad who showed her that someone had to look after people when they did Science!. Papa taught her to keep the tea (or coffee) flowing and to gently lead Dad away from Science! when it was time to sleep.

So maybe Darcy Lewis didn’t have a normal childhood. Or even one that was always happy. But you couldn’t tell her that Christmas morning wasn’t fun with Dad trying to guess all his gifts before opening them and Papa wearing ugly christmas sweaters.

Darcy didn’t have a traditional family. But she liked it anyway.


	2. Meet Thor!

When Darcy met Thor (by which she means felling him with a single hit) she was extraordinarily thankful for the taser gripped tightly in extremely sweaty hands and the two spare charges in her bag. She also vaguely remembers thinking: ‘I got this’ before everything went to hell and she learned, ‘I don’t got this’. She remembers, vaguely, that this was a time before she and Jane had become ridiculously codependent. When Darcy first met Thor, Darcy was still a university student, in New Mexico with the crazy Dr. Foster for six college credits. Oh how things change. 

When Darcy first met Thor she was struck by how utterly gorgeous he was, and that he was completely insane. Honestly, sometimes she thinks that he gave her his crazy and now they’re living in a giant hallucination. She wanted to call Dad so badly when it all started. She nearly did. Instead she watched as Jane fell in love. As a vague yet menacing government agency (full feature including fearful whispers from Eric) took Jane’s life work. It was a little sad, but mostly it was terrifying. Also, when she signed up to this: she was not prepared to give up her iPod. Like, that thing had like so much awesome music. (And also a panic button that both Dad and Uncle Mike had insisted on when she decided to go to Culver University.) Losing it sucked. At this point, she wanted to call Dad rather less. Also, she was a little tiny bit afraid of being arrested for having pirated the music. They couldn't actually arrest her for that - right? 

Then she finally got to call Dad and Papa. But! She had to speak that double speak that meant she spoke empty platitudes and put emphasis on how upset she was to have dropped her iPod in the toilet. She had to listen to the empty gap that meant that Papa had gasped. Had to listen as Dad and Papa shared a look and said, “be safe”. Had to remember that when they said that, they knew how dangerous it could get. Mostly because she had to confirm that, “Uncle Mike is too busy to visit this year?” And understand that she was alone. That Uncle Mike wouldn’t be able to get there in less than an hour. So, if something happened. She was sort of doomed. 

She really wished she still had Papa’s gun with her. 

Meeting Thor was falling down the rabbit hole, which don’t mistake her, was terrifying. Yet. She can’t find it in her to regret it. Trouble has always followed Darcy, but this is the first time it held a blessing as well as a curse. Because, as much as she hated having to sign a trillion NDAs once Thor disappeared. As much as she nearly wet herself meeting the Destroyer (capital letters even). She really liked the way Agent iPod Thief gave her appraising looks and said how brave she was for helping to evacuate other civilians. (Even if he didn’t give back her iPod.) 

So yeah, meeting Thor was PTSD inducing (not that she didn’t have it already) and it was expensive (she had to get new insurance because apparently three separate town-destroying-incidents counts as a pattern. Ugh.) but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. Too bad she couldn’t tell anyone (yet).


	3. Meet Agent Arms! (Later Known as Hawkeye AKA Clint Barton)

It was sunset and Darcy was hella bored. Like super duper bored. The jack booted thugs had taken Darcy’s iPod so she couldn’t listen to music. They had taken Jane’s stuff so she couldn’t work. Jane wasn’t in so Darcy couldn’t force her to take them out to dinner. So, as an appropriate solution, Darcy is laying upside down on the rescued junk chairs that were an ugly grey/yellow colour. Perhaps the most distressing part of them was how ridiculously uncomfortable they were. But they no longer had… well, the majority of the everything. The government goons had taken their furniture. Sure, most the of it had formulae written on them, or were part of a device but seriously, like damn. She was just glad that they’d left the table, four dining chairs, and the three uncomfortable but padded seats. That she was currently laying on. Also, she was glad to have not disappeared. Very happy about that.

Darcy looked at the shop across the street. She kinda wanted to go onto the roof but was kinda reluctant to move. She had nothing better to do though. She couldn’t even people watch. There weren’t many people in town and every single one of them had moved away from Jane’s workshop when the dark vans with jack booted thugs included came by. So now she was stuck staring at the same, boring consistent buildings which never chang-

Why was there a dude on the roof?

Maybe it wasn’t a dude. It almost definitely wasn’t a dude. But… It kinda looked like a dude shaped shadow. Like, there were shadows at twilight, but that shape was not the same shape was it was last night. (Darcy often got distracted in the evenings and there wasn’t much to do in the middle of buttfucking-nowhere.) Also, that dude shape appeared right after dudes who were “definitely-one-of-the-good-guys” came and full on stole Jane’s shit. (Er… important scientific equipment.) Also, on the same topic, where had the pop tarts gone? Jane may have had her own itty bitty home in a metal caravan (or, whatever) but Darcy lived in one of the ex-kitchen (this place used to be a diner after all) and she would swear she had a ton of pop tarts. But now she had like, two boxes.

Actually, this probably wasn’t because of SHIELD. She probably just ate them. Pop tarts - yum.

Anyway! Man on roof?

Darcy almost went onto her own roof to yell at him… but that seemed dangerous. Instead she grabbed a stone, a piece of tape, and a note. And threw it onto the roof. Much safer. The note, of course, said, “Would you like a PB&J sandwich, please circle one of the below and return. Yes No” Darcy waited for a few minutes, not quite sure what she was expecting. After nothing happened (although the shadow might’ve shifted maybe?) She went back down stairs and started as she realised that there was now a person there where there definitely hadn’t been before.

“Hey… So you offered a Peanut Butter sandwich… and I forgot to eat… So…”

“Uh…” Darcy looked at the rather handsome man. “Sure.” A fair bit older, and more serious than her usual type… but she really didn’t mind those lovely, lovely arms. Darcy took a large loop around the man to the ‘kitchen’ (a couple cabinet and a foot of flat surface that, for once, wasn’t completely covered in junk. (Maybe having the Men in Black taking everything away had upsides too!) “So, what your name. I’m Darcy…. but you…. probably already knew that…”

“It’s classified,” the man winked.

“Okay,” Darcy drew out. “Then…. I dub thee…. Agent Arms because, may I say, you have some amazing muscles there. Like, greek statue levels. Those things are…” Darcy couldn’t think of a decent adjective, so she just gave a small whistle. It made her point clearly enough. The man smiled, though, he didn’t actually say anything which was a little bit of a disappointment. “Now let’s see… Do you want cheap whiskey, cheap vodka, or cheap wine? No wait, the wine gone.”

“I’m on duty.”

“… Whiskey then?”

“… sure.”

“I’m gonna go with vodka because today has been… well you know.” Darcy trailed off. Agent Arms nodded.

I do.”

Here is your sandwich, and here is your whiskey.” Darcy said turning it around and shoving it into his hands. He took it, looking slightly surprised but not fumbling in the slightest. Darcy turned back to her own sandwich and vodka and started slapping it together.

“… is this a sippy cup of whiskey?”

“Oh yeah, Jane kept wiping everything off a table to dramatically make space but forget to move the coffee cups and such.”

“Okay,” Agent Arms drew out, sounding dubious but not too much like he was laughing at her.

“We can sit at the table, Jane’s back at her place moping.”

“I know.”

“Right! Secret agent spy dude. I forgot. Kinda. You know when you know something but you forget then you know it and forget to act on your knowledge?”

Ummm.” Agent Arms was clearly overwhelmed by her awesome.

“Anyway, so what do you do when you’re not stealing people’s life work?”

“…”

“Right! Super spy, let’s see. When I’m not following crazy-but-it-turns-out-correct-scientists I’m a poli science student - which I’m sure you know. It’s prefect for me because it really bugs my Dad by my Uncle loves it, so like double win. What else? I run a less than successful tumblr, and enjoy watching cat gifs. Now your turn.” Darcy took a swig of vodka, or, at least, tried to. Sippy cups were not made for swigging so instead it was a bit of a dribble. “You know what, as long as we clean up, let’s open these babies up!” Agent Arms smiled as Darcy enthusiastically twisted open the sippy cup lid. It wasn’t very dramatic by Darcy felt like it should have been.

“I have a dog named Lucky.“ 

“Ooh!” Darcy leaned toward him, hoping for more. (More info, more dog. Either was good.) Agent Arms didn’t continue so Darcy put on her cute, please-do-what-I-ask-pretty-please face and said, “do you have any pictures, can I see them?” Agent Arms smiled. 

“Here,” there was a greyish brown mutt that maybe had some labrador in it, and it was adorable. In the picture Lucky had his ears cocked and was looking straight at the camera. The Agent-Man paused as if considering whether it was classified or not and finally said, “his official title is Pizza Dog and we watch Dog Cops together.”

“Oh man, Dog Cops, I love that show. Me and my Papa, right, we used to watch it for fun and because it annoyed my Dad. But then my Dad started watching it so he could loudly criticise it for being ‘inaccurate’ and stuff like that and got totally hooked! It’s hilarious. He’s so mad about it but just can’t stop!”

“Yeah, I got my best friend watching it and she totally hates it but gets all cranky if she misses and episode.”

Darcy can’t clearly remember much of anything that happened after this point other than it involved a large amount of vodka and whiskey and when she woke up the next morning she had a phone number with a messy piece of hand writing above that said: “Memorise and destroy. Then text me.” It was tattooed on the left side of her rib cage. Which, while possibly useful in case of… something? happening, was a little strange. It ached pretty bad but. Oh well. She could work with it.

The number is saved on her new phone as: HotGuy. She doesn’t know why it has no space but she’d decided to leave it like that. If asked how she felt about meeting Agent Arms she would have to admit: she doesn’t regret it. (The tattoo on the other hand - maybe.) (Only if her Dad found out.)


	4. Agent iPod Thief (AKA Phil Coulson)

Darcy first saw Agent Phil Coulson when he was stealing her iPod. She didn’t really meet him though, for another couple of days. As soon as Thor disappear Agent Agent was quick to call his minions to get to work. Picture were taken, drawing of the pattern were made. Then it was all cleared up. It was bizarre to watch them work like an army of ants that could also kill you without trying. 

 

“I’ll be getting in touch with you.” Agent McAgent said to Jane. 

 

Then they were gone. 

 

The next morning, during which Darcy was nursing a hangover and a new tattoo, Phil Coulson arrived like the devil come to make a deal. He was wearing an well fitted suit that contrasted yesterday’s one which had been very just-another-worker-bee. Darcy was disgusted to realise that she should probably start using her powers of deduction as her Dad called them. She wanted to call him just to whine, “But it’s hard.” Then hang up. Instead she straightened up slightly, slipped on some sunglasses so she could open her eyes without pain, and looked at him. 

 

Hands clasped in front, a technique to make him appear smaller, less threatening. Full length clothing, it could be nothing, but was also a desert. Maybe he was covering something up. No body guards, possibly to appear less threatening again, also possibly because he doesn’t need them. Eyes aren’t focused on me, most people would be looking at the person they’re approaching. This either means he’s not paying attention, which is unlikely, or he is trying to once again appear less threatening, or he’s scoping out the area. Why is he trying so hard to appear non-threatening. Okay, the most obvious reason is that he really is very threatening and is trying to make people underestimate him. (Which Darcy had. Jane had as well. Because he was just another worker bee, wasn’t he?) But you can’t assume the most obvious reason, why else would be be trying to appear less threatening? If he was worried about how any of us would respond to his work, so maybe be found out about Uncle Mike?

 

“Ms. Lewis, if you’re finished?” 

 

Darcy jumped just the tiniest bit. She wasn’t surprised. She’s hadn’t forgotten that she had to think and interact with the physical world. God, that was so exhausting. She wanted a nap now. Damn.

 

“Gimme a moment to grab a coffee.”

 

Then, like a highly unfortunate stroke of lightening she remembered. She forgot to call Uncle Mike to tell him what had happened. Shit. Papa was going to do that disappointed face and Dad was going to get that pinched look. Sure, she had called Dad and Papa and hinted at what was happening, but she should’ve called him yesterday before it became illegal. Damn. 

 

“My name is Phil Coulson, I am here as a representative of SHIELD. May I just confirm that you haven’t told anyone about what has taken place in the last three days?”

 

“Beside the Facebook post?”

 

“Beside that.” He agreed mildly. Mildly. Jesus, how many Secret Agents (capitalisation necessary) could be described as ‘mild’ without it being a trap? The answer - none. Zero. (Thank you Uncle Mike for that lesson.)

 

“Well let’s see, I made a post on twitter, tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, snapchat-“

 

“Ms.Lewis.” (And wow, if that didn’t sound like warning.)

 

“None. I have told no one.” Darcy said, trying very hard to look like she was lying and trying to look like she wasn’t. Look Coulson in the eye, look super sincere, think about having sex to raise her pulse. Continue to look Agent in the eyes while thinking about sex but try to make it look like she wasn’t think about sex. 

 

“Ms.Lewis.” Agent sighed, sounding utterly exasperated. 

 

“Fine! I told my Uncle.”

 

“…” The man looked at her for a moment, “you don’t have an uncle.”

 

“I don’t?” Of course she didn’t have an Uncle, legally. Hell, she might’ve even have a family legally. She honestly hadn’t checked. Well, you learn something new every day. “Well, I guess I told some stranger then.” Darcy said, shrugging and looking befuddled. The man took a deep sigh, and oh. Did you see that, that was a large sigh. Big lungs. Not the kind of sigh you got from someone working an office job. That lung size belonged to a solider, a fighter. Good. Because she was not going to go down without a fight. 

 

“Miss. Lewis.” (Wow, those was totally two different words.)

 

“Jesus, you already know if I told anyone because you’ve been watching me since you got here! Like was that a rhetorical question or what?!” (Ha! Irony. Maybe. Who even knew what irony was anymore.)

 

“Ms. Lewis, it was not a rhetorical question. We at SHIELD try to confirm our data as best as possible. So, have you told anyone about the events of the last three days?”

 

“Besides my Facebook post?”

 

“Yes Ms. Lewis, besides your Facebook post.” 

 

“Nah. I don’t think so. I got a bit drunk though. So, like, maybe.” Darcy smiled as Agent Agent took a deep breath and silently sighed. “Also, I called my parents so they probably figured it out.”

 

“… I see. Ms. Lewis, I feel that we will get no further on this specific topic but let me make this clear: you may not tell anyone about Thor or Asgard or the Destroyer. Or any of the events of the past four days. In fact, here are a few forms I need you to sign that say that you agree not to tell anyone anything.” Then he opened his brief case and took out significantly more than a few forms. The fact that it make a thud sound and made the table shake was not what a few forms looked like. 

 

“… I know I shouldn’t say this. But. What happens if I say no.” 

 

The MiB just looked at her. It wasn’t even in a way that said, “You will disappear forever” or anything like that. It was just a blank look. Or maybe a, why? Just why. Darcy rolled her eyes. She wasn’t intimidated. She had faced John Hamish Watson while he was mad. The fact that the Men in Black could probably disappear her (at least for a little while) was maybe a little terrifying. Not that she would admit defeat or anything. 

 

“Ms. Lewis, sign the forms.” AC (Agent Coulson. Coulson’s initials because Agent was probably his real first name. It was like he was born for this!) said. Darcy looked down at the stack of paper and sighed.

 

“Well okay. Time to start reading.”

 

“You need to sign at the places with the neon arrows.” 

 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not just going to sell my soul by accident. I can read it.” Darcy looked at the papers and read the first line yawning. “I won’t fall asleep reading this at all.” Agent Coulson grabbed a plastic mug and poured himself some coffee. “You know what. Can I have an actual lawyer look at this?”

 

“No.”

 

“But. I don’t. It feels like you can’t do that.”

 

“I can have SHIELD lawyer meet with you and go over it but you cannot allow anyone outside of level two and higher SHIELD agents to read any of the documents. Do you understand and agree?”

 

“Yeesh. Jeez. Paranoid!” Darcy says dismissively as if she doesn’t totally understand the reasoning and how very clear Agent Coulson is being. “Fine. Just get me someone who can explain this soul binding voodoo.”

 

Coulson looks at her in a way that makes her feel like he can see her thoughts, then walks outside for a moment and makes a minute long call. Darcy tries to see if she can send off a text to Uncle Mike before it’s too late but SHIELD is nothing is not careful and they still have every single electronic device she owns that they could find. Which was all of them. It doesn’t take long before there is a lawyer.

 

That is how Darcy spent the afternoon with a kickass lady lawyer who had no sense of humour but Darcy couldn’t help but respect. At the end of it, Darcy had learned that she had made the right choice not going to law school; Coulson probably wasn’t a soulless monster (and maybe even had a sense of humour, but that was undecided); she could basically not talk about anything that happened while in New Mexico; and she was going to stay with Dr. Foster - Jane (you got to call people by their first name after living through alien killing machines together) for a few more months so that she qualified for SHIELD authorised safety. Whatever that entailed. 

 

What did Darcy think go Agent Coulson though? Well. She respected him, and in another timeline would’ve really liked him. However at this point, she was just kinda done with SHIELD. But she kept the business card he gave her anyway. 

 

They gave back everything but her iPod which Darcy was very suspicious of. Apparently they had found ‘unidentified material’ in it. Like gosh, a few explosives and a small radio and suddenly no one wants to do what you want.


	5. Meet Black Widow! (AKA Natasha Romanov)

It took a surprisingly long time for Darcy and Natasha to actually meet face to face. In fact, it started very differently. 

 

It started with London. One year after The Battle of New York. Two years since Darcy had set foot in this whole mess for the first time. At this point the Avengers were already a big deal. Coulson was dead. ( _How? No! It couldn’t be true…._ ) Darcy could have gotten the hell out of dodge after Norway, after it became clear that Jane’s work may actually be important beside once in a lifetime moments where gods just fall from the sky. Instead, she got an intern that actually understood science so there would be someone else to deal with the calls they were suddenly getting. (Because even if Thor’s first arrival at Earth was still classified, well, crackpots with portal theories get remembered when actual portals open. Who’da thunk it?)

 

It started with London, Tony Stark had already been announced dead then not actually. (Six months ago now. Wow, time goes by so fast.) Iron Man had retired. (But in the end not really.)

 

It started with London. Where Jane became a vessel (whatever that meant) and Thor made his third trip to Earth. Frigga was dead. (Darcy didn’t actually know her but she seemed like a cool lady from Thor’s occasional comment. You know, beside the whole, ‘teaching Loki magic’ shit.) Darcy had made a call to every SHIELD number she knew. (All three of them.) Agent Arms (now revealed to be Hawkeye - what the hell?!) didn’t answer. Neither did the actual SHIELD agency, Darcy didn’t know why but she called Agent Coulson’s phone. No one answered, (of course) but she left a message anyway. Maybe someone would hear it and know to come down and deal with the whole, destroyed Greenwich deal. 

 

Less than a day passes before a man stands at the door and he looks _a hell a lot like Agent Coulson._ Naturally, Darcy points her taser at him (it?). Obviously, he insisted he’s the real Agent Coulson, but Darcy’s not falling for it. So she calls Agent Arms again. The conversation sounds like this, (because this time he _does_ pick up,)

 

“Who is this?”

 

“It’s Darcy Lewis from New Mexico. You gave me your number, just in case.”

 

“Oh. Okay. Well, you should probably call SHIELD for the that, their number is…”

 

“Actually, I have a man claiming to be Agent Coulson in front of me and wanted to confirm from someone I trust at least a little bit whether or not it’s him.”

 

“… Is this a prank call.”

 

“No, I can send you a picture if you’d like. You know what, I’m going to send you one anyway.” Darcy says, pointing, shooting, and sending the (hopefully not too blurry) picture.

 

“Agent Coulson is dead,” is the reply. Then the line goes dead. Which, as far as everything goes, isn’t _super_ helpful. 

 

Luckily, Darcy remembers that she _actually knows someone_ who faked their own death and maybe they’ll know something about it. So she calls Dad. Then Mycroft. Then spends a good ten minutes waiting for him to call back. All the while pointing one steady hand at the supposed Agent Coulson. Who, admittedly, stands very calmly and waits for her to confirm that he is the real Agent Coulson. _Apparently,_ he was never dead! He has, in fact, been working with SHIELD since his recovery (a good long time ago now) and never bothered to tell people from his past life. So. You know. Fuck him. (A little. Mostly she is just trying not to cry because he was the only person she had known who had died and it had made the whole thing very real at the time.) Darcy sends one last text to Agent Arms before she welcomes Actual-Real-Life Coulson in.

 

“ _Agent Coulson is alive. I repeat. Agent Coulson is alive.”_ And that, is where it all starts. 

 

The rest of the week isn’t relevant to this tale at all (despite being very entertaining) so let’s skip it.

 

Now, Agent Arms never replied to Darcy’s text but she knows that he got her message because she gets a gift basket from someone and it included a brand new Starkpad AND a Stark brand Mp3. What she doesn’t know won’t really come up here since it _is_ from Darcy’s point of view. But one day Darcy is at a cafe enjoying London for a little bit before they leave for DC where SHIELD has decided they should put in place parameters to make sure there are alerts if a portal is about to open above the capital. Because as much as SHIELD is _technically_ a worldwide agency, they are definitely US based. (Darcy likes to look at the whole situation as a political scientist. Because it’s broken and still beautiful.) 

 

Anyway, Darcy’s phone rings with the Caller ID: UK Government (eg. the one and only Mycroft Holmes).

 

“What’s up, Uncle Mike?” Darcy says, perhaps a touch louder than necessary, for two reasons. One, it bugs the hell out of Uncle Mike that she follows Grandma’s tradition of shortening Mycroft’s name. Two, it really shows her the new people following her because they immediately straighten up aware that their boss is probably watching them at that very moment.  (And oh! Look at that. Two men. One in a suit ‘typing’ on his computer surreptitiously and another looking uncomfortable in jeans and a hoodie as they appear to play on their phone. But… the red head behind Darcy that she can only see because of someone laptop reflection has definitely noticed… Better trained? Not Uncle Mike’s? Doesn’t know who Uncle Mike is? Just someone who’s had a bad experience with someone who had the name Mike? Or just someone surprised by her noise? It could be any of them, the power of deduction isn’t flawless of course.)

 

Darcy hears Uncle Mike sigh, “I despair when I linger on the idea that you might never grow out of Sherlock’s childish manipulation.” (Dad had originally given her a chocolate every time she called him Uncle Mike. Little does Uncle Mike know that she does it because she loves the way she sounds like Grandma when she says, “MYCROFT!” When she’s upset and it wouldn’t have as much impact if she always used his full name. Even worse, she might learn to say it in her native American accent!) 

 

“I know. _Uncle Mike.”_

 

 _“_ Darcy, I was originally calling to enquire as to whether you had caught on to your tail.”

 

“Which ones?”

 

“… The one I didn’t send.”

 

“… Maybe. I’m not sure. Usually you send a lower calibre.”

 

“She’s sitting two tables to your left with the red hair and tan jacket.”

 

“Yeah, I thought it might be that.” Darcy nods to herself and purposefully doesn’t look at the woman as she digs into her bag to grab a notepad and pen. “Is it an emergency?”

 

“I don’t think so, you tell me, Darcy.” Uncle Mike says, the same patient yet slightly patronising voice he uses when he wants her to deduct the answer and is annoyed she didn’t already do it. 

 

“But it’s haaaarrrrrrdddddd!” Darcy sighed and listens as Uncle Mike reluctantly smiles. 

 

“Darcy, I’m still mad that you didn’t call me during the invasion.” Uncle Mike says, pulling the ‘ _you only called me a day after you nearly died, in MY country!’_ card. So unfair.

 

“I forgot _okay_. Fine give me a minute.” 

 

“Of course. Take your time.” Uncle Mike says in a way that means, _hurry up it’s no good to be able to do what we can if it take all day._ Darcy purposefully moves slowly to open up her notepad and chews on her pen (just because it annoys Uncle Mike and he can see her from the CCTV installed across the street). 

 

“Look, see I’m working!” Darcy says, before moving her phone away from her and taking a picture of herself with the pen in her mouth and the notepad in one had. All framed in a way that showed the woman behind Darcy without making it clear that she was the focus. Then she sent the picture to Mycroft. (Because right now he was the paranoid ex-spy who ran the country and not he Uncle Mike who gave her plushies that represented different elements and who made amazing red velvet cupcakes.)

 

 _Let’s see. Well trained. She’s dangerous- obviously, considering the way she has at least one knife strapped tightly to her leg. (That can’t be comfortable.) Oh and look at that, the way she’s holding her cup suggests that she’s had edict training. More likely a long term spy or assassin type. Not at all new to the business then. She’s probably better at infiltration based on the way she’s dressed. But is she dangerous to me? She is ignoring my tails probably because they are pretty easy to avoid or… well.. the woman could probably dispatch them without a probably considering the level of skill I’d guess that she has. They’re not exactly the most dangerous people considering that Uncle Mike uses their tailing of me to be training. But, the question is whether or not the woman has spotted Adam. Adam is the best trail who teaches the others so if the woman can spot him them I’m sort of screwed. Is she dangerous to me right now?_ I can’t tell. (And it hurts Darcy to know that. To realise that she hasn’t been practicing people watching enough. It hurts to realise that she hasn’t been keeping in shape and probably wouldn’t even be able to put up a fight against the woman.)

 

“You are out of practice Darcy. That’s very dangerous, and considering the life you currently lead, it’s foolish.” Then the line went dead and Darcy knew that Uncle Mike was mad at her for putting herself in danger. That’s when the problematic voice in her head spoke up and said, “ _If he thinks that’s dangerous, then he should watch this!”_ And without her consent moved her to sitting across from the woman. Who honestly, looked kinda shocked. ( _How long had the woman been following her before she noticed?!)_  

 

“He told you.” It’s not a question, but the woman is still wrong.

 

“Yeah, but I’d already noticed you. You went on alert when I started the call.” Darcy says, smiling, but not friendly. The woman doesn’t say anything but there is conflict in her eyes. “I’d really like to chat, but not right now. There’s going to be dark car coming for me in a moment, I just wanted to give you an FYI. You _probably_ shouldn’t follow it. After that, well. I guess I’ll see you around.”

 

“We’ll see.” The woman says. And Darcy remembers what Dad had said about meeting The Woman. About all the question marks he came up with. The way she couldn’t be deduced. Now Darcy understands, she’s met her own Woman. Her’s is beautiful and dangerous. Like a poisonous spider. 

 

 

The next time they meet face to face it’s in the Avenger’s Tower and Natasha, somewhere along the line decided that she would be Darcy’s mentor. Darcy is somewhere between excited and scared for her life. Natasha approves of this attitude. 


	6. Meet Tony Stark! (AKA Iron Man)

Things changed after DC (since that’s what it’s now called. Just ‘DC’, to cover a massive, world changing event). Darcy, Jane, and Thor had moved into the Tower. Darcy had found herself with more free time now that Thor could be there more often, and as an effect, Darcy started to explore. She did so recklessly and without paying attention to where she was going since she knew her passcode would deny her anyway she shouldn’t go. The universe laughed at her, and decided she we would meet her biological father in the most ordinary of places.

 

It was a Thursday morning. Early. The sun had yet to rise but Darcy's nightmares didn't seem bothered by it and made themselves known So, she made her way up to the shared kitchen. Every floor had a smaller kitchen but this one was huge and beautiful and there were large windows that would let in the sun when it rose. She enjoyed baking early in the morning. She loved the smell of it as the world brightened. She revelled in the way it brought the people she loved together, the way it made them smile. 

 

She did not like being interrupted on her way to kitchen. 

 

"Put your hands up." The voice was calm, though slightly unsteady. It had a rough sound to it that made Darcy suspect the user hadn't spoken much recently. Darcy also knew that she had her taser in her bag. (She carried a bag with bandages, paper, a pen, and a taser with her at all times now.) Finally, she was aware that if the tower had been invaded her chances of survival was bad. But if this was a smaller infiltration and there were only a few people, she stood a chance. As long as she got her hands on a weapon. 

 

There was barely more than a second between the man's words and Darcy's spin, her grab for her taser, and her attack. 

 

Darcy and the man dropped at the same time. Though for different reasons.

 

The man, was being electrocuted and was currently pissing himself. Darcy was dropping because she didn't want his trigger finger to get twitchy as she fell. Darcy waited until it was clear that there were no bullets flying, then she looked around. 

 

"Ms. Lewis, medical is on its way." JARVIS’ posh British accent came, allowing Darcy to relax. If JARVIS was still online then things couldn’t be too bad. 

 

"Thanks JARV, but shouldn't some of the Avengers come too?"

 

"I don't believe that will be necessary, Ms. Lewis. I doubt Mr. Stark will be putting up much of a fight."

 

Darcy heard the words, but all she could think  was:

 

**Input Rejected**

 

Darcy looked at the man on the floor. If he wasn't Tony Stark, he was a remarkable double. The man was wearing oil stained jeans and a white tank top, but he did have the goatee. And a repulser on his hand. 

 

Oops. 

 

The elevator opened, letting the medical team swarm around the newly unconscious Mr. Stark. 

 

Darcy went and made cookies. (A plate of which was sent down to medical, of course.)


	7. Meet Virginia Potts (AKA Pepper Potts, Stark Industries CEO)!!!

The first time Pepper Potts and Darcy Lewis see each other in person they don’t recognise each other. They’re in Washington DC and the world is going to hell. Darcy is shooting her way out and only noticed the other woman long enough to confirm that they weren’t enemies. At the time, Pepper had been focused on getting outside so one of Tony’s Iron Man suits could take her to safety. Pepper nods to the dark haired woman who is also working her way out. And that’s it. 

 

They don’t notice or think of each other again until at least 12 hours later when they each hope the other has made it out safely. 

 

After that it takes a while, but their paths cross again. Jane Foster and Thor are invited to move into the tower and Darcy follows out of love ( _not_ because she would kill someone to see the inside of Stark - Avengers - Tower, nope). She is rather immediately met by Tony Stark, whom she is only mildly impressed and moderately annoyed by, for various reason. Then she meets Pepper Potts and is star struck. The feeling is (surprisingly) reciprocated. 

 

Darcy is sitting in the kitchen of the apartment that _technically_ Thor’s, but she lives in more than anyone else. Jane after all, (quite logically) got an apartment with the Stark Industries funding (and has started to pay Darcy, so that’s cool) and Thor has been living with her since. And yes, Jane got an apartment with room for Darcy. _But_ Thor has incredible stamina and a thousand years of experience. So Darcy reluctantly (NOT) moved into Stark -er- Avengers’ Tower. In that time she has done lots of things.

 

Including accidentally adopting Tony Stark. It was an accidentally, honestly, it’s just. He was so easy to banter with. Also, he was dating Pepper so he wasn’t flirting awkwardly with her. Most importantly though, he really brought out her Papa John instincts. (It was an inside joke - shut up.) So one day she’s bringing down some snickers bars and water and vegetables hidden in a blended up soup when she runs into someone. 

 

Someone, being Pepper Potts. CEO of Stark Industries. And the person Darcy wants to be when she’s grown up and not busy being Black Widow. Because Pepper Potts is awesome. So she opens her mouth but before she can say anything the beautiful, beautiful woman of a human being says, 

 

“Are you the one who’s been feeding and watering Tony?” (Darcy is only mildly surprised to internally realise that she now refers to the name sake of Stark Industries as _Tony_.)

 

“Oh, yeah. Darcy Lewis, Intern, Assistant, and Scientist Wrangler.”

 

“Darcy Lewis.” Pepper Potts says slowly, as if tasting the name. Then she pauses for a moment, and looks thoughtful. “I know your name. You were one of students from Culver that my people were keeping their eye on.” Potts looks Darcy up and down and adds, “we were planning on offering you a job as soon as you graduated.”

 

(Darcy has been working through her last couple credits while traveling. It’s been hard but she was able to pull the _‘_ special circumstances’ card and would be graduating in a month or so.)

 

“You. what.” Darcy says, eloquent as always. She had been good at political science, and she knew it. But, it’d gotten boring after a while. Not everyone in politics was as interesting as Uncle Mike and it took a lot of work to keep deducing every little thing about every little boring person. Darcy is so shocked that her limited brain to mouth filter fails completely and she reveals what she would later view as a hideous weakness. “I had you in mind when I started. Even though you had a business major, you were my idol.” Potts smiles, and Darcy sees how beautiful she is. Not like how her hair is a soft ginger colour. Or the way her skin is pale and softly freckled. That really wasn’t what was beautiful about Pepper Potts. She was so determined, she’d worked so hard to get there. And she’d make it. She made Darcy’s feminist heart thump loudly. She had to remind herself that Lady Potts was very much spoken for. (By one of the richest men in the world, who was also a superhero.)

 

“Thank you.” Pepper said, her voice softer than before, “I wanted to ask if you are being paid for taking care of Tony as I hadn’t seen any new names on the payroll.”

 

“I’m not,” Darcy paused. How could she explain that Tony made her think of her Dad without being weird. “He just made me think of my Dad when he’s going on a science binge.” Oh well.

 

“Would you be interested in taking on the same job in an official capacity?”

 

“Theoretically? Yes. Realistically? I’ll need to think on it. Can you send me the contract?”

 

“Yes, of course. Let’s see,” Pepper said, reaching into her pocket and grabbing a business card, “I’ll have the contract emailed to you. Just call my secretary and we can go over it as soon as possible.”

 

“That… would be great!” Darcy said, a smile breaking out on her face.

 

“I’ll see you then, I’m afraid I have a meeting to get to.” Pepper said, smiling as she entered the elevator. 

 

 

It was, late that night when Darcy saw the contract (and the sum involved **per week** ), that she decided that she would rather cut off a finger than miss this opportunity. (Not an important finger or anything though, the ring finger on her right hand maybe?)


	8. Meet JARVIS!

Meeting JARVIS was different from meeting humans. It started slowly. It started with a young woman directing Darcy, Jane, and Thor through the floor of Avengers' Tower that was now theirs. It started with the young woman saying,

 

"This is JARIVS," while standing the middle of the living room doing nothing.

 

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Foster, Ms. Lewis, Prince Thor."

 

"JARVIS is in charge of security and various other things in the tower. If you ever need anything or get lost you can ask him for help."

 

And at the time, that was it. As a matter of fact, it stayed like that for a while. When Darcy got lost, she asked JARVIS for help. When something or someone (Jane) was lost, she asked JARVIS. Every single time he was bland but helpful. Enough that he faded into the background and Darcy's original excitement (she's never heard of a computer that controlled security) faded.

 

But it was still there, in the back of her mind.

 

Then came the day from hell. It started when the alarm on Darcy’s phone didn’t go off. So she woke up with five minutes before Jane got in, an entire hour of work missed. Time that was usually spent getting the food for the day started, emails checked, equipment turned on. All of the starting parts of the day that, without having done them, wreaked havoc. Which was why Darcy was found at 7:30 in the morning in the kitchen throwing pieces of meat into a (beautiful, high tech) slow cooker. That is, she was found by one Clint Barton, who dropped silently from the ceiling. 

 

Darcy burnt her arm on the slow cooker and got food all over. Like. The entire kitchen. (Mostly Clint’s head though. Such a _shame. Good thing he would_ ** _never_** _seek up on her again. Right Clint?_ ) Then when she was taking a shower the lights went off and Avengers’ alarm went on. Which meant running for the safe room as fast as possible. In her towel. To make matters better, it was a 5-hour fight, in New York. Something about slimy slime balls. Or something. Darcy stopped paying attention and was too busy freezing. 

 

Finally, in the early afternoon, Darcy made it back to her room to finish the shower. Only to have the great honour and joy of having an intruder. Who almost definitely shouldn’t have been there. Maybe it was the way he was going through her computer, or the fact that all of her drawers were open that tipped her off. Maybe it was the way that he said,

 

“Hail Hydra.” When he saw her. He lifted his gun and _shot_ at her. This was why she always carried her taser. Which she used with extreme prejudice. In fact, she may have used it twice. 

 

“JARVIS, we appear to have an intruder.”

 

“Indeed Ms. Lewis, I hadn’t noticed.” JARVIS said, his voice _dripping_ in sarcasm. Darcy would say she didn’t appreciate the attitude, but she did - so, so very much. He sounded like Uncle Mike, like Papa, like Dad. He sounded like home and comfort.

Also, some part of her assumed that if he had time to be sarcastic then things couldn’t be going all that badly. 

 

“Are you using sarcasm on me JARVIS?” Darcy asked, smiling.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Lewis. There will be a SI security member at your door in a moment. The passcode is 4582.”

 

“Thanks JARVIS.”

 

“It was my honour Ms. Lewis.” There was silence for a moment and Darcy felt her heart race and her legs get shaky. She was having a come down from the adrenaline rush but she had to avoid the complete panic that was coming until after the Hydra agent was gone.

 

“JARVIS….”

 

“Yes Ms. Lewis?”

 

“Can you-“ Darcy starts but the words get stuck in her throat. She was cold and tired and scared and words refused to come. There is a long pause but Darcy finally forces out, “talk to me?” For a moment, JARVIS says nothing. Then he begins,

 

“On Monday the 23rd I learned that electrons can be shot from an orbit….” And Darcy’s eyes begin to close as she imagines JARVIS in a human body. He looks like a cross between Dad and Tony Stark, but he’s more polite than both. His attitude reminisce of Miss Potts, the relation emphasised by the freckles on imaginary JARVIS’ cheekbones. Darcy imagines him walking around Dad’s lab as he talked about science she couldn’t quite understand. 

 

Afterwards, when it was all cleaned up and Darcy was all cried out, she lay in bed and looked at ceiling.

 

“Thanks JARVIS,”

 

“It was an honour Ms. Lewis, as always.” JARVIS’ voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. Darcy fell asleep dreaming of JARVIS and Dad arguing over a mistake that someone made while experimenting. Arguing like family. 

 

Family.


	9. Meet the Winter Solider (AKA The Asset)

Darcy is walking down an empty hallway when the back of her neck prickles and she feels the air stir softly around her bare legs. She’s wearing an old t-shirt and some sleeping shorts, and carrying her bag. (Because it’s fucking hot in the tower, even in the middle of night.) She reaches for her bag, pretending she’s looking for her iPod so she can listen to music instead of the taser she’s actually reaching for. Then there is a knife on her throat anddeargodshe’ssodead. 

 

“Mr. Barnes, please remove the knife from Ms. Lewis’ neck.” JARVIS says, and Darcy hopes she’s imagining the slight desperation in his voice. _Barnes. Barnes. Barnes. Where have I heard that name?_ Darcy stiffens as it hits her. _DC! Bucky Barnes._

 

“Hey Mr. Barnes, or should I call you James? Or Bucky? Anyway, my name’s Darcy and I’m here at Stark Tower, er, Avengers’ Tower. I mean, they already had been calling it Stark Tower through the building of it so it’s kinda stuck. And what kinda name is Avengers’ Tower anyway. Anyway, I mean, I’m here because my BFF and boss Jane Foster is here. I love her to death but she’s got zero common sense and hey-this-could-kill-me instinct. Self protection? god. I can’t remember the word. I know it. It’s on the tip of my tongue. I know that I know it but.” Darcy pauses for a breath as she hears the elevator door open, then she continues. Maybe if he’s distracted by her mindless babble he won’t kill her. (Yeah right.)

 

“Bucky?” a voice ( _Captain America’s voice!!!!)_ says, it sounds sad and tense. “Bucky let her go. She’s not the enemy.”

 

“If she’s not the enemy why is she sneaking around in the middle of the night?”

 

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her.” Captain America placates, Darcy does not appreciate the knife still being on her neck but now she feels like her chances of survival are a lot better. She feels the warm body ( _The Winter Solider’s warm body!!!)_ behind her nudging, as if to say, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace. Because I will kill you.’

 

“I get nightmares. So when I wake up I walk around the building.” Darcy says, and god. Does she sound awkward. If it were any other situation she would want to be put out of her misery. Right now it seems like far too much of an actual, literal, possibly. 

 

“Why are you on my floor?”

 

“I don’t know what floor I’m on. I just go down the stairs until I decide to start walking.” Darcy says, glad that her voice is mostly steady. More than could be expected when she’s got a knife at her throat. 

 

“JARVIS?” Barnes says, Darcy can feel the way he shifts as he looks up. _Idiot. JARVIS isn’t in the ceiling. Looking up also bares your own neck. Don’t taser him. Don’t taser the man holding the knife to your neck. You couldn’t even aim it like this. Honestly don’t taser him._

 

“Ms. Lewis regularly wanders the halls at night and is not considered a security risk.” JARVIS says. He sounds… disappointed. Barnes takes a step back after lowering her arm and Darcy is almost shaking with the urge to taser the person that held a knife to her neck. The one that could still kill her. Possibly the deadliest assassin in the tower. 

 

“You are so fucking lucky I didn’t taser you. You fucker.” Darcy hisses and storms past the two looming men to the elevator. Her words are so quiet she almost hasn’t said them, but something tells her, they heard.  The doors close swiftly and carry her up to her floor. “JARVIS.” Darcy says, like a prayer, as the tears start to leak out. “JARVIS. I almost did it. I nearly tasered him even though he would’ve killed me. Oh god.” she sobs, “ I was so close.”

 

“Ms. Lewis, you showed remarkable restraint in not tasering Mr. Barnes. I do believe that would have been badly received and likely wouldn’t have incapacitated him. You did what you needed to survive your circumstance.” JARVIS says, his voice calming in the face of Darcy’s blubbering. It feels placating and still complementary. 

 

“That. Fucker. That Motherfucker.”

 

“I understand your statement Ms. Lewis, though it may be beneficial to understand that Mr. Barnes has not had an easy time of it.” JARVIS says, his voice almost begging. Darcy stands and walks on wobbly feet to to cabinet that holds the alcohol. “Ms. Lewis-“ JARIVS starts, his voice sounding just a touch desperate.  

 

Darcy ignores him and grabs the vodka she keeps for Natasha and Clint. 

 

In the morning Darcy wakes up with a tiny nick on her neck and a killer hang over. She’s had less than three hours of sleep and she’s sobbing. Her hands gently touching her neck to confirm it’s not severed or slit. 

 

Darcy does not appreciate meeting the Winter Solider.


	10. Meet Captain America (AKA Steve Rogers)

Darcy is in the kitchen trying to enjoy her coffee while trying to ignore the Winter Solider’s staring face. It was super creepy. Like. Just so creepy. That’s when his buddy, Captain America came in. Darcy had to resist crying, she didn’t want to deal with this. It’s only been a couple days since they ran into each other (he held a knife to her throat) in the hallway. She hasn’t had the time to get the handgun permit she’d applied for. She hadn’t had time to take a quick trip out of state to get a stun gun.

Darcy hated feeling helpless. Somehow the hours she’s spent that the 24 hour gym a couple streets away weren’t making her feel anymore safe against the living weapon that was the Winter Solider.

“Steve Rogers,” Captain America says, sticking his hand out awkwardly. Darcy pulls her eyes away from the Winter Solider where she hadn’t realised she’d been staring and looked up at the mammoth of a man.

“Darcy Lewis.” Darcy says, her voice as empty and polite as she can make it. And she’s good at it. The voice Uncle Mike had taught her. Utterly without reproach but still unkind.

“I was wondering if you could tell me what happened before I got there…” Captain America says, his voice trailing off slightly as he glances at the Winter Solider.

“Do you mean before or after the Winter Soldier held a knife to my neck?” Darcy says, hating the way he winces at the title. She doesn’t want him to hurt, but she’s allowed be to hurt and make that clear. Captain America coughs into his hand, more out of sheer awkward than any need.

“After.” His voice is… so much like kicked puppy. It hurts to hear it. He just sounds so sad. Darcy thinks back to the way that she’d woken up even earlier than normal that morning, her hand cupping over her throat to check that it wasn’t bleeding. The way she couldn’t even go for a walk to calm down. Then she pushes all of her anger in to her words and nearly hisses,

“Nothing. I spoke to the Winter Solider so my throat wouldn’t be slit. Ask JARVIS if you want to see it. Now, if that’s all.” Then, without waiting for a response she stands and walks out of the room, leaving her dishes on the table (which would normally make her eye twitch). She stalks right past the Winter Solider whose eyes haven’t left her since she entered the room. (Fuck. Him.)


	11. Meet Sam Wilson (AKA The Falcon)

Darcy Lewis enjoys watching old movies. She’s not particularly sure why, she’s not the ‘old movie’ type for the most part. She’s not a hipster (she hopes), and somedays the black and white bugs her. However, for the most part, it doesn’t. Instead it makes her feel warm and safe because she knows the good guys win and the bad guys lose and it’ll all turn out okay in the end. So old movies and tv shows are her feel good activity for bad days. And today is bad day.

 

To be fair, it could be a lot worse. But her PTSD (which she doesn’t have) was pretty acute yesterday. For example, she started running when one of the door she opened released a blast of hot air because she was suddenly back at New Mexico and there was a Destroyer nearby. The adrenaline rush made her feel ill and the low after it made her shake. She couldn’t sleep. And hey, she’s accepted being fucked up because this is the sort of life she is willing to deal with to meet all these awesome people and make a difference. But Darcy has this _thing_ with being stalked. Last night she wondered if maybe she was over exaggerating it. But. She not. She didn’t see the guy for ages after he came to tower. Then all the sudden she can smell his scent in her bedroom. She sees a flash of silver as she walks into a room. She can _feel_ him watching her. It makes the hair on her neck rise and a shiver run down her back. 

 

So yeah. Bad day. There is good news however. The Winter Stalker hates people, indiscriminately, as far as she can tell and avoids public area. He spends a lot of time in the hallway by her room, the hallway by the spaces she goes. The public kitchen? Empty. The library? Empty. The cinema? _Empty._  

 

So Darcy is spending Thursday afternoon watching I Love Lucy. She hates the stereotypes of the day and all. But there is something relaxing about watching a tv show that’s finished. That she doesn’t have to wonder if the main character would survive ‘till the next episode. That sort of thing. She also liked falling asleep to them. (Her secret hope. She needs to sleep.) 

 

So she’s a little annoyed at being interrupted. Some guy she’s never seen before comes in looking like she’s sure everyone does when they first moved here. Like, _these damn rich people, a_ nd, _they have a_ ** _cinema_?** _Seriously_? 

 

“He’s got a cinema?” 

 

“Of course, he’s Tony-Fucking-Stark.” Darcy saying making a fake stretch to make her presence obvious in case he’s legit. But also so that her taser is easy to grab in case he’s not. He looks honestly surprised to see her. Which. Yeah. Either he didn’t know she was there or he is very good at faking it. If he didn’t know, then it would give credence to the idea that he’s allowed here. Unfortunately they are both possibility. “Not to be insensitive or anything but… Are you Hydra? Or one of the other bad guys?”

 

“Um. No. I’m Sam Wilson-“

 

“Identify Confirmed.” JARVIS said, his voice perhaps a touch softer than usual. Or maybe Darcy imagined that. 

 

“Well then. You can join be in watching I Love Lucy if you want.”

 

“I’d love to.” Sam said, sitting in a reclining chair a couple down in the cinema. (Seriously. It was a rich people cinema. Jesus Christ.)

 

And that was how Darcy met Sam. To be honest, if Sam had finished his sentence and announced his Captain Jackass allegiance, it would have gone very differently. Perhaps that’s why JARVIS interrupted.


	12. Meet James Barnes (Yes, James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes born 1917)

Darcy and Sam don't spend a ton of time together, but yeah, Darcy would say they’re friends.They spend Friday nights playing two person card games. They see each other early on Thursday mornings when Sam is leaving for his run and Darcy is getting everything together. Darcy tells Sam about her flashbacks on 4 am Saturday morning as they back lay on the sofa and talk. Sam talks, briefly, about Riley. (Darcy can't really understand how much trust he's showing.) Neither of them cry, but it’s close.

 

They don't talk about some things. Sam doesn't really talk about Captain America or Bucky, not because he's hiding anything, but he spends time with Darcy when he need time away from the ancient Soldiers. Sometimes adorable inability to use modern technology can get really annoying, and when the two of them argue there is so much sexual tension Sam just can’t deal. 

 

 Darcy doesn't talk about Dad or Papa. Mostly because she's not sure how much of her background info is in her file and she'd like to avoid adding to it if at all possible. She will mention Thor or Jane in passing but she’s dealing with the way her life basically revolves around them. 

 

Neither would say they were close with each other. But they were well on their way. Far closer than they thought, for sure. 

 

Perhaps, a month, into their friendship, Sam brings up 'Steve' and 'Bucky' and learns (vaguely) of Darcy's opinions on them. They agree that, for the sake of their friendship, they'll avoid that topic in the future. It's all very emotionally exhausting and Darcy nearly screams when she smell the mild soap the Winter Soldier uses by her room. He had tried to use her _laptop_. (She can’t tell if he succeeded/

 

JARVIS continues to be surprised when she mentions the he's been there. Darcy wonders what exactly that means, but she doesn't have enough data so she lets it go. (For now.)

 

A few weeks later, Darcy goes to find Sam for the first time. She had _finally_ gotten her hands on the original Star Wars trilogy. Before the remastering. (She had to find someone who had reconstructed it from laser disc, converted it to VHS then convert it to DVD. Like _damn_ George Lucas.) JARVIS had reluctantly informed her that Sam resided on the 87th floor but was currently in the stairwell on his way there. 

 

So Darcy goes to meet him. 

 

Unfortunately, he’s not alone. With him is a strange ghost of a man. He's wearing a well fitting black shirt and has his finger nails on his right had painted. That's the first thing Darcy notices. Then she sees the way his hair is braided down both sides, almost to his shoulder. She sees the deep lines under his eyes and the way his back is rigidly straight. It screams _exhausted_ and _militar_ y. Funnily enough, it takes her ages to notice the metal arm. After that identification takes just a split second.

 

But words racing their way to her mouth are beaten by the Winter Soldier. 

 

"Darcy! It's nice to see you!" Sam says, full of relaxing fake cheer. (Darcy has yet to figure out how he does that.) "James, this is my friend  Darcy."  

 

The other man (the Winter Soldier? Barnes?) looks like he's... confused? In pain? It's only there for a millisecond. Then he's all charm as he reaches out his right hand and says,

 

"It's always a pleasure to meet such a pretty dame," his mouth quirked in a way that makes it clear that he _knows_ the words 'dame' isn't common anymore. But has decided to use it anyway. 

 

"The pleasure is all mine," Darcy says, putting a less than stellar performance of pretending she doesn't feel like passing out from fear or some equally shitty thing. 

 

The man gets another funny look on his face. Followed by looking like he's about to be sick. Sam is smiling and glances back, concerned, just in time to see as all emotion leaves James' face. All that's left is this empty slate that Darcy can read like a book. 

 

 _Fear. Anger. Confusion. Pain_. 

 

They don't flit across the face like with people. It just _is_ the face. The building blocks of the person Darcy is seeing. And it makes her feel sick to see it. Because _this_ is the Winter Soldier. This creature made of hurt. 

 

"You." The Soldier says. 

 

"Me." Darcy agrees, her mind racing. Sam looks absolutely panicked.

 

"Captain Rogers is on his way." JARVIS says. The only indicator that the Soldier heard is the way he tilts his head as JARVIS speaks. 

 

"You've been stalking me for a couple of months now. What've you found?" Darcy asks, sounding far more calm than she feels. She hopes she's sending out Black Widow vibes. Cool, calm, collected, and most importantly, capable. 

 

"Designation: Darcy Lewis. Threat Level: unclear. Most information necessary. Family: Adopted by Sherlock Holmes and John Watson at a young age. Exact date unclear. Fostered by Marlene Lewis. Biological mother: Jeanne Kingston. 

 

“Biological father: Tony Stark. 

 

“Target shows signs of genius and is presently on 4 Hydra watch lists and 1 cancelled kill order. Also one of the humans targeted by Hydra's failed attack on dates: 27, 4, 2014 and 31, 7 , 2014. 

Darcy Lewis has not been cleared as mission assist."

 

Darcy and Sam stared for a moment.

 

"Well.. that is a lot more information than I expected. Hold on, did you say _Tony Stark_ is my _Father_?!" 

 

"Confirmed."

 

Darcy looked at the assassin's face. "So, why do you keep following me? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm _very_ glad you haven't killed me or whatever. But." Darcy's not quite sure how to ask how she could be at all important. She didn't even know who Father was until just now so it's not like she could be blackmailed. And unless he was planning on taking action on the cancelled kill order... why?

 

"Bucky?" Captain America's careful voice comes from by the elevator. (And doesn't that just feel like deja vu.) 

 

"Asset investigating designation for goal: identify threat level; clear for designation: Sam Wilson mission assist; identify capability to mission assists designation: James Barnes; identify capability to mission assists designation: Captain Steve Rogers." 

 

Darcy raises an eyebrow and can see out of the corner of her eye that Sam's done the same. She's not sure why, but even when Sam is so rigid he's not even trying to step in. 

 

"Bucky?" Captain America says again.  (God that guy sounds like a broken record.) (Or maybe it's just that she now realises that she can't really hate the Winter Soldier because that is just _so much pain_. So all her anger and hurt has to go somewhere else.) (eh. Probably not.) 

 

The Winter Soldier turns to Captain America and says, "Designation: Captain Steve Rogers. Repeat." Darcy doesn't get it but it makes Captain Dickhead smile. 

 

"Let's go home." Captain smiles geniality and gestures past Darcy down the hallway. 

 

"... The Asset -  I - am having a conversation with designation: Darcy Lewis." 

 

"Eh?" The Captain seems surprised. 

 

"It's okay Captain. The Winter Soldier here is using close range surveillance to identify my threat level. I don't mind as long as it stops him from breaking into my apartment and going through my stuff." Darcy says smiling. It's fun, almost, to find it so easy to read the Soldier. His face is blank but he's smiling. 

 

Darcy, in general, finds humans hard. She'll never have Papa's skill of identifying with normal people. She can't tell how they're feeling just by understanding what they've gone through. Papa said it was because she processed things differently. Like Dad. Darcy will never be as good with _normal_ people as Papa.

 

She was never as good as Dad at using deduction, she just couldn't see as much as fast. He would see the scuff of mud on your heel as soon as he walked in. For Darcy, she had to _look_ for it. Sure, she's gotten better with practice, but she'll never be as good. 

 

But between Dad and Papa, Darcy can read the Winter Soldier like a picture book. And that's... comforting. (Yes that's the word...) (Even with all that pain, it's nice to be able to understand, to some extent, what the machine-man feels and thinks.) 

 

Suddenly, as Darcy is glancing away from Captain America and the Winter Soldier’s body _slumps_. It’s instantaneous and like a puppet getting it’s strings cut.

 

“Bucky!” (Jesus, was that the only thing the man said?)

 

“Stevie?” Barnes’s voice croaks, he sounds miserable, “Did I hurt anyone?”

 

“No. No you didn’t Buck. Everyone’s okay.”

 

“James. You are in the hallway outside of the apartment and you were meeting Darcy Lewis.” Sam says asserting his, _everything is okay_ , power on the group.

 

“What happened when it came out?”

 

“… talked. That’s it. The two of you talked.” Sam says, turning to Darcy with an almost accusatory look. (Almost, but not quite. Darcy would guess that he’s fed up he’s spent all this time trying to talk to the Soldier and he comes out for Darcy having only met her in person once before.)

 

“Hey-ah Soldier. Hmm. That doesn’t work so well when the Soldier isn’t you. Damn. I like calling people Soldier.” Darcy babbles, sighing dramatically. And it’s true. Calling people Soldier sounds classy. Sorta. Who know’s. The point is, it’s fun. “Here’s the thing James, we gotta talk for a bit while Winter up there,” Darcy taps her own head, “listens so he can get a grip on how dangerous I am. Meanwhile, _I’m_ going to panic over the fact that I was just informed Anthony Edward Fucking Stark is my Daddy-o. So yeah.” Barnes looks a little shell shocked. It’s probably because of the situation and not Darcy, but she can’t help giving herself a pat on the back for distracting everyone from the whole, had-an-assassin-right-there-and-he-didn’t-kill-me thing.

 

“You picked a real firecracker.” Barnes says at last. The pressure in the room takes a nose dive and Darcy’s surprised because she’d forgotten how tense it all was. Bucky walks in a facade of casual over to one of the door and opens it up. “I think you’d best come in to talk instead of doing it in the hallway.”  

 

Darcy hurts to just watch how tired he is, but it has to be done. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if part of the reason he hasn’t been getting enough rest is because the Winter Soldier keeps forcing Barnes’ body t stalk Darcy so hopefully this helps. Darcy enters the room and can feel as Captain America and Sam follow behind her. And for the first time in what feels like ages, Darcy is feeling hopeful for the future. 

 

(Besides the whole, Iron Man is your father, _thing_.)


	13. Phone Call Interlude #1

Darcy is currently laying on a giant bed in her room in Avengers Tower. And somehow, her life has made it so that this is normal. She is also currently looking at her Starkphone wishing that it was slightly lower quality so it would break and she would have an excuse for not calling her parents.

This of course, would never happen. So she opens her contacts and calls John Watson, nicknamed Papa.

“Hello?”

“Hi Papa, it’s Darcy?”

“Darcy? My daughter Darcy? The one who didn’t even call me after an alien invasion? That Darcy?” Papa asked, perhaps still a little annoyed at her for not calling. Maybe.

“Yes Papa, that Darcy. Could you grab Dad please?”

“Of course Darling, I’ll be back in a moment.” Papa sets the phone down and Darcy listens as her Papa walks into another room. She hears his voice loving and exasperated say, “Really Sherlock. Really. I was going it eat those left overs.” Darcy listens as Sherlock says,

“It’s for Science! John, for Science!” Darcy gulps slightly (totally not) holding back tears as she feels a wave of homesickness crash over her.

“Hi Darcy, we’re back,” John says, a fair bit too loudly into the phone. Darcy thanks Stark tech for the new volume modulator, her eardrums really appreciate it.

“Hi Dumpling.” Dad says, and Darcy tries not to sob. (It’s been a long day, okay?)

“So Dad, Papa, I’ve got some… news.”

“I guessed, considering that you were calling us.” Papa says wryly. Neither of her parents begrudge Darcy her freedom of course, but it stings a little that she never calls. They did spend ten years raising her to the best of their ability. For some reason her absence brings out insecurities that had fallen by the wayside around the time Darcy had said,

“You’re the best parents I could ask for.”

“So, you know how I’m living in Avengers Tower…”

“Yeah?” Papa says sounding mystified.

“Yes, you said it was a great learning experience and that you were looking forward to taking all the tech apart.” Dad says, perfectly summarising their last conversation.

“Well…. You saw the DC thing right?”

“Yes, the one where the ‘secret’ helicarriers crashed. I remember because that was the last time you called us.” Papa says, and Darcy wants to snap at him, but she kinda deserves it.

“Did you see anything about Captain Ameri-“

“Darcy stop stalling!” Dad snaps, and Darcy can hear the worry that is shaking them both to the core.

“IjustfoundoutthatTonyStarkismybiologicalfather.” Darcy forces out, it’s a rather long sentence to say all at once and Darcy hopes they don’t make her repeat it.

“Sorry what was that?” Papa says,

“I believe she said that she has just found out that Tony Stark is her biological father.” Dad says, slightly quieter to Darcy’s ear as her Dad turns away from the phone. “What do you plan to do about that?”

“Sherlock.” Papa says, a warning in his tone, “why do you sound so calm?” Dad does tend to take things in quicker than Papa, but Darcy will admit to having expected a little bit more in response.

“I already knew.” Dad says, the word ‘obviously‘ unspoken but clearly heard.

“Sherlock-“ Papa starts and Darcy can hear the fight starting.

“Argue about that later. First.” Darcy takes a deep breath, “talk to me. I don’t know what to do.” And just like that Darcy is 11 again and her body is suddenly everyone else focus. She 15 and her first boyfriend has just cheated on her. She’s 17 and has no idea where she wants to go to university. She young and her parents will know what to do.

“Darling, it your choice, and we’ll support you in whatever you choose.” Papa says, and Darcy can hear the weighted glance Papa gives Dad.

“Darcy, Dumpling, I found out who your father was when we first adopted you. John said he’d rather not know, that he’d rather you not know. And…” Darcy can hear that her Dad is having a hard time with emotions (she can imagine his mock shiver of fear at such a terrible thing as emotions.) “I can’t say I understand why he wanted it that way. Not exactly. But I think, he wanted you to realise that it isn’t biology that makes someone a parents… and we are your fathers no matter what.” Dad finishes, sounding a bit shaken.

“So. If I wanted to… get to know him. As my father. Or maybe just. Meet him. Or something.” Darcy bites out each word. She just wants them to tell her what to do.

“Then, I’d say, ‘good luck,’ but Darling, don’t get your hopes up. He may not want kids. You’re information may be wrong-“

“It’s not” Dad inputs quickly.

“-regardless, it may not go as you want.” There’s a calm pause, each one trying to process. “Also, are you coming to us for Christmas or are we going there. Because, honestly Darcy, we need to see each other more.”

“I think. Well. I’ll let you know. If it goes well, then can you come here. So. I can spend a Christmas with him. And if it doesn’t go well…” Darcy can’t get the words, I’ll come to you out. She doesn’t want to jinx it.

“Of course. Let us know. Maybe even call us. Love you,” Papa says and Darcy smiles.

“Love you, Papa.”

“I love you, Dumpling.” Darcy’s Dad says, he’s not really one for verbal declarations of love, but he’d gotten better at it.

“I love you, Dad.”


	14. It's a Girl!

When Darcy finished her call with her parents she had a very clear next step in mind. She was going to get up (in just a second) and go find Tony Stark, and explain what happened. They would do a DNA test. It would come back positive (or negative - it might!)  and they would deal with the consequences as they came. Being open and truthful would be to her advantage at the moment. 

 

Darcy stretched and got ready to sit up … in just a moment.

 

When Darcy opened her eyes again golden morning light was causing the dust in the room to dance gently around. Darcy would read the signs, and they said, “It’s morning loser.” She stands and takes a quick shower and walks, reluctantly, to Tony’s workshop. She’s been here before. She’s on a first name basis with Tony. But never as his maybe daughter. The workshop is, as usual, brightly lit and full of noise and life. Tony is in his usual workshop mode: dirty, oily clothes. Looking nothing like the man on the cover of magazines, but so much better. Happier. 

 

“Tony?”

 

“What’s up Ladybug?”

 

“Ladybug?”

 

“What? You don’t like it?”

 

“No, it’s not that. Its just. It’s a nicer nickname than anyone else gets.”

 

“No it’s not!” Tony says, sounding offended. Darcy laughed and forces herself to continue.

 

“I met Bucky Barnes yesterday,”

 

“Oh? How was that?” Tony’s voice is deceptively calm in the way that he tends to towards. 

 

“He. ah. Well, there’s really no right way to say this to be honest. But he told me who Hydra thought my biological father is.” Darcy says, her voice far steadier than she expected. She knows Tony, she knows he won’t hate her. (Probably. Hopefully.) Tony is looking at her horror struck. “And as you may be able to guess by the the fact that I’m telling you. He said it was you.”

 

“I can’t have kids. I had a thing done.”

 

“Well this would’ve been a good 25 or so years a go. You were only around 20 years old yourself. Regardless, we should get a DNA test done.”

 

“Yes. Yes. DNA test. This will clear things up.  Ah. Let’s see. I have one somewhere around here.”

 

“Don’t you have one set aside for DNA tests, since your a well known celebrity who no doubt has tons of women claiming paternity?”

 

“Yes! Yes I do. Let’s go find Pepper. She’ll clear this up!”

 

***

 

“So.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Hi Pops.”

 

“You’re making me feel like an old man, Ladybug.”


	15. Meet the Hulk (AKA Bruce Banner) - Part 1: The Hulk

Darcy decides that a few things should be universally recognised. First, she’s cursed. Second, when a person gets information that they need to process, something will inevitably go wrong in such a way to completely distract them. She decides this as she drops to her stomach and tries not to grunt in pain as Hydra agents begin to swarm the building. She would normally just wait until she can’t see any, then run to panic room.

Unfortunately, that’s not one of today’s options because Jane is one of the targets. Now, to be fair, Darcy wasn’t there at the Hydra briefing where they said, “Yes, Jane Foster is the focus for this attack” but, Jane Foster, aka her boss and BFF, _is_ the main focus of this attack. One might be able to recognise this from the way that Thor was _desperately needed_ , as far away as possible, and because there were more than five Hydra agents in the room Darcy is hiding in. In Jane’s office.

Also, she just heard Jane scream in the other room. Which, is not good news.

That was a main indicator. It’s often hard to tell what’s important when the Tower gets attacked. There’s lots of background noise that makes it hard for Darcy to process the situation so she has to ignore most of it and focus on whatever is happening in the room that she’s in.

(The building shakes.)

Darcy grabs her taser from her new thigh strap that she had found on her bed that morning. She’s _pretty sure_ Natasha left her. (She’s on a first name basis with _the Black Widow_.)

(Distant screaming starts up louder than before.)

She pushes she way under the cover of Jane’s desk which is made to hide under in this sort of situation. She only has two hits with her taser before it’s spent so what she needs is to get her hands on is a gun. Unfortunately they’re not likely to be carrying Brownings or Sig Saucers that she’d grown up using, now that black market Stark weapons were so damn popular. (Mostly as a spit to the face of her dear old dad.) Worse still, Stark Weapons were _made_ to be hard to hijack. Ideally to prevent terrorists from using them. ‘ _Oh irony, I love you, and I hate you_.’

(The glass shakes.)

Darcy takes a deep, quiet breath. Her hands weren’t shaking, she wasn’t scared. She was calm. She couldn’t handle phantom enemies in her dreams and stalking her days. Real ones were easy though.

So guns were a bad idea. What other weapons were they likely to have? Most Hydra agents had poison in their false teeth but that wasn’t very helpful in fighting scenarios. They might have cattle prods in case they needed to deal with one of the super soldiers since electricity was one of the only ways to quickly put down a super solider without outright killing them. They _might_ have knives since some agents specialised and throwing knives were strangely popular.

(The glass implodes.)

The room is suddenly a lot quieter and Darcy can’t see anything to understand why. The sounds of men rummaging through Jane’s paperwork (that doesn’t actually have any important information) has completely stopped. All she can hear is the sound of huge lungs breathing heavily. Not many men breathing heavily. No. One, larger than man sized being, breathing heavily. That’s when Darcy clocks it.

The Hulk.

When Darcy had first called her parents to inform them of her living situation, Dad had made her go through all of the Avengers and come up with a plan in case any of the turned on her in a violent situation. They had agreed that the Hulk was the most dangerous because although Iron Man and Thor were better at strategy, they were also more human and less likely to outright kill her. The Hulk, as far as they could tell, didn’t actually have empathy. Which was actually scary as hell. (She doesn’t let herself think of Moriarty, now was not the time.)

As Darcy starts to quietly panic, there is a soft growl. Then a squishing sound with cracking undertones. (Darcy is pretty sure she’s about to be sick.) She tends to automatically keep track of the sounds of breathing in a room. It’s very useful when people are trying to lie to her. But now she wants to puke. Because one the breathing noises have gone quiet. And no one has said a thing.

(The background noise decreases.)

Then two more squishes and cracks and Darcy actually starts gagging. Her overactive imagination showing her the red stain that those humans, people, (terrible, horrible, Hydra agents) are now. There is another growl, this one louder and Darcy can hear two sets of boots _flee_. And the little instinct part of Darcy’s brain says, “ _uh oh_ “ because there is _nothing_ Darcy can do against the Hulk in such close corridors. Not unless the desk is going to hide her.

Things get worse.

(Darcy can hear someone calling her name, but it seems very far away.)

The desk around her creek and then something gives in the floor, and it’s being lifted up from around her. And Darcy is now sitting defenceless against one of the strongest and most dangerous beings on Earth. (She actually isn’t stupid enough to think that the Hulk can even compare to some of the beings no doubt found in this expansive universe.) Darcy turns, because if she’s going to die, she wants to look it in the eyes. (Like her Dad, like her Papa, like Tony-Fucking-Stark.)

And while looking the giant green beast in the face, a voice comes to her like a savior. Not Dad.

(The alarms turn off.)

But Papa. Papa, with his oatmeal sweaters (jumpers) and callused hands. Eight bullet holes in the bull’s eye as Darcy tries not to think about how alone they are in the forest. Hot chocolate after nightmares that left them both screaming. (Holding a shaking gun and pointing at the face she loves.)

The voice says, “ _You wouldn’t believe what people do when they’re scared and desperate. So if you’re ever in a situation where trying not to draw attention to yourself won’t work, try to calm who ever it is down. If someones robbing a bank all on their lonesome, they probably think that they have nothing to lose. What you need to do is talk to them. Be calm. Be cool._ ”

“ _You’re good at talking Darcy, use it._ ”

“Hello.” Darcy’s voice isn’t smooth or silky, especially not right now with the acid feel of sick still lingering in her throat. “My name is Darcy Lewis.” She feels like she’s on a bad talk show and is about to introduce her addiction and allow the whole world to judge her for it. “I work for Jane Foster, she’s a scientist who looks at the sky and stars. She’s friends with Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, do you know them?”

The Hulk hasn’t moved except to put the desk down to the side but the look in his face is. Something. Scared? Surprised? Unnerved? She’s not sure. Darcy is going to start talking about her parents when a streak of gold and red flies through the air and Iron Man is standing in front of her. _Between her and the Hulk._

And she knows that this can go one of two ways. Very good. Or very, very bad.


	16. Meet the Hulk (AKA Bruce Banner) - Part 2: Transition

Darcy watched as her newly identified Father started to power up the blasters in his hands. (They looked cool, but how did they work?)

“Wait!” Darcy briefly wondered who’d said it, but then realised it was definitely her. “Tony, talk to him. Hitting him won’t help. Just talk. Lift up the face plate so he can see you.” Her mouth was working faster than her brain could catch up. The Hulk was part of Bruce Banner though, and… and Banner liked Tony. But the Hulk would try to smash Iron Man if attacked. So Hulk had to see Iron Man as a friend. Tony friend.

Hundreds of disjointed thoughts flew through her mind, very few making any sense at all. But one that stuck was that the Hulk seemed to understand language even if he didn’t speak very much himself.

Tony didn’t turn and look at her, but he did pause.

“Hello Hulk.” His voice was modulated and sounded fake, and Darcy wasn’t sure how much that would help.

“Take your face plate up!” Darcy hissed, Hulk looked confused but that wouldn’t last forever. Again, Tony didn’t turn to look at her, as far as she could tell his eyes never left the Hulk, but he did something to let up the face plate.

“Do you remember me? I’m one of Brucie bear’s friends. We play science together. It’s great. I’ve been meaning to ask - do you prefer kittens or puppies?”

There was a huge wave of displaced air as the Hulk dropped into a sitting position.

“NO SMASH?”

“No smash.” Tony said, his voice was calm but Darcy could hear the small shake at the end of it.

The giant figure of the Hulk started shrinking at an alarming rate and Darcy felt the tension leave her like a balloon with a hole. Laying on the floor was a tanned man, asleep inside a ripped pair of purple pants.

Tony turned. “Oh thank god you’re okay! Okay. Okay. I need to go-“ Tony trailed for a for a moment. Then stepped out of the Iron Man suit and pulled her up. And … gave her a giant hug. “I am so glad you are okay.” Then he put on the suit, princess lifted the man, and ran off again.

Natasha found in her later, in much the same position, having puked a few times Darcy was feeling both better and worse. The fear was bitter and survival was sweet, but the place she had felt safe had been invaded. And she was not having a good time of it. Natasha spoke to her softly in variating English and Russian, calling her pet name and telling she was safe. Then Natasha help her shower and put her to bed.

Darcy murmured something that was supposed to be “thank you for the thigh holster and looking after. I’m sorry for being a failure of a human being” but came out very differently, Natasha seemed to understand anyway.


	17. Meet the Hulk (AKA Bruce Banner) - Part 3: Bruce Banner

Darcy wasn’t impressed when Natasha told her to go try yoga. She was so very not impressed that she agreed then and there. Actually… Those two things were rather unconnected. Darcy was unimpressed by the idea. Natasha was highly convincing, by which Darcy means that Natasha made vague references to the idea that it would definitely be a good idea and that Darcy would _very much_ regret it if she didn’t.

So yeah, unimpressed, but she still signed up.

That was how Darcy found herself at 10am on Tuesday outside a room she had never been in before. Inside was a ballet studio and no else other than Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner. It smelled rather strongly of a set up. Goddamn Natasha.

“Hey Darcy!” Natasha smiled in that way that made most people who knew her piss their pants from fear. She looked like she was about 13 years old when she did that. How the hell someone like Natasha could look 13 years old baffled Darcy. Like really, so baffling.

“Hey Natasha.”

“Hello, I am Doctor Bruce Banner.” The man stuck his hand out and Darcy remembered the noise the Hydra soldiers made as they went squish. He spoke and Darcy heard the sound of The Hulk’s heavy breathing.

“Hi.” _Goddamn Natasha._ Darcy didn’t shake his hand. But, she didn’t run away screaming either, so win to Darcy.

“Okay, let’s get started. Bruce, because you’ve done this before I want you on my right, closer to me. Darcy you can go on my left behind Bruce, that way you can copy his stance. He’s pretty good at yoga so if you’re unsure of what you should be doing, copy him.”

Dr. Banner moved his yoga mat into place without another word, Darcy watched as he moved, all tense shoulders and self awareness. She wondered, if he walked on grass, would the grass even bend? That was the sort of vibe. Like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and, yeah, sure, it was killing him, but that was no reason not to be careful. Every movement, controlled.

***

“Natasha, I think I hate you.”

“Darcy, we’ve barely started.” Natasha said in her usual infuriatingly unconcerned voice. She wasn’t even breathing hard. Damn her.

“Nope. It’s decided. I hate you.”

***  
“So, was that so terrible Darcy?” Natasha asked, Darcy opened her eyes and looked up and Natasha’s happily looming figure. She took another few loud gasping breaths before she could answer.

“Yes. It was horrific. I hate you. Why.”

“Well, let’s put it this way, if you see Dr. Banner in the hallway, are you going to have a panic attack?”

Darcy wondered for a moment. Would she have a panic attack? Well. No. Probably not. How could she be afraid of the the calm man who was less than two decades older than her but looked like he could be her father. How could she be afraid of the man who fell over standing on one foot then laughed it off and tried again. How could she be afraid of _him_?

“… No.”

“Then it wasn’t so terrible. My other option was to just randomly shove you two into the same room at some point.”

“…That doesn’t _sound_ like it would have gone well.”

“No. Probably no.” Natasha said, continuing to sound unconcerned. _Damn her._


	18. Essential Pop Culture

Darcy wasn’t _avoiding_ Tony so much as strategically not being at that same location at the same time. That way when Papa called and asked if she had asked about Christmas, Darcy could honestly say they hadn’t run into one another. Unfortunately, Tony seemed to have some sort of Avoidance Detector as only few days later Darcy got a message from Tony via JARVIS.

“What’s up ladybug? Anyway, I’m putting together a movie night, since Cap, Grease Lightening, _and_ Brucie Bear all lack essential pop culture knowledge. _They haven’t seen the Princess Bride!_ “

“Oh no.” Darcy deadpanned, “how ever have they managed to survive.”

“Oh haha Ladybug, but you only say that to delay your own panic, since I know any child of mine will have seen the Princess Bride - and be able to quote it. If you can’t I’ll have to speak about getting you removed from your current guardians for child abuse.” Tony joked, Darcy tensed. She _knew_ he was joking. She did, but it was hard enough to have two dads (well, three now…) but child services had been a recurring villain of her childhood. “So? Quote for me!”

“As you wish.” Darcy obliged, Tony laughed and started talking again. He didn’t sound nervous, he sounded confident and like he was about to say ‘haters gonna hate’ but for some reason Darcy thought he sounded… a bit off.

“…Anyway, so I was thinking we could meet tonight around 6pm.”

“Tony, I don’t get off work until 8:30.”

“… You only get paid from 9 to 6.”

“I work from 6 to 9 most nights.”

“But. You don’t get paid for it.”

“Yes I know, I didn’t choose this job for the pay Tony, I didn’t get paid at all until Jane came to the tower.”

“But. Movie night.” Tony didn’t sound sad, but there was definitely something going on. Darcy raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes even though she knew Tony couldn’t see it.

“I’ll speak with Jane, I’m sure she can manage by herself for one night. She did somehow survive before I came around.”

“Good. I’ll see you at the cinema at 6.”

“Okay, sure. Weirdo.”

“The call has ended Ms. Darcy.”

“I know Jarvis, I know.”

“Are you well Ms. Darcy, your heart rate has increased dramatically over the course of the conversation.”

“Jarvis… how well do you think Tony would respond to me asking if I can bring my family here for Christmas.” Darcy paused and took deep breath, “So. So we can celebrate like a family.” There was a long pause on Jarvis’ behalf before he said,

“I cannot be sure Ms. Darcy, Sir has always been… sensitive when it came to the topic of family. But I imagine he would say they are welcome. I cannot be sure though. I’m sorry, Ms. Darcy.”

“It’s fine Jarvis. It’s just. What if they don’t like each other?”

“I cannot possibly imagine Sir not liking the gentlemen who raised such a lovely young woman.”

“Thanks Jarv, but however much I love both my dads… Well they aren’t always the easiest people to get on with. Even Papa, who is more of a people person, is… Well… I’m worried Tony’ll kill Dad or Papa will kill Tony.”

“I see. Well, rest assured I will do my best to prevent any homicide while they are within the tower.”

“Thanks. Well… We’ll see.” Darcy smiles without humour and there is a long enough pause that she thinks the conversation has finished.

“I think it will be good for you to get this ‘off your chest’. And.” If Jarvis was human, then Darcy would think that he was bracing himself. “I think that this could be good for Sir as well.” When Darcy smiles this time, it feels much more genuine.

“Thank you Jarvis. Have you seen the Princess Bride?”

“I am aware of the synopsis of the film and have been monitoring while Sir has watched it.”

“Yeah sure, but have you _watched_ it.”

“I am not entirely sure what you are trying to suggest Ms. Darcy, but I would guess that by your measure, no, I have not.”

“Well. Watch it with us tonight.”

“I- pardon?”

“Watch. The. Movie. With. Us.’

“I. I must confess confusion towards your idea.”

“Put some of that big brain of your towards watching the movie during movie night tonight.”

“I will think about it Ms. Darcy.”

“That’s all I can ask bud.”

“I.”

“Wow, I’ve really broken you haven’t I? Well, I’m gonna go chat with Jane-y-boo and let her own I’ll be M.I.A. tonight.”

“Best of luck, Ms. Darcy.”

Darcy strolled down the hall to the room where Jane was working and knocked lightly before making her way in.

“Boss!”

“Yeah?!” Jane spun around in surprise. _Ha! Caught you!_

“Whatcha doin’?”

“… Work…”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Jane yawned.

“You weren’t sleeping?”

“Nooooo…”

“Come on, time to get you to bed. Jarvis, when was the last time Jane slept for more than a couple of hours?”

“Ms. Foster got 8 hours of sleep this past Friday, that is to say, 4 days ago. On Sunday night she had 3 hours of rest throughout the day and night.”

“Thank you Jarvis.”

“No! But Darcy, my work. I’m on the edge of a break through!”

“You’ll reach that break through a lot faster if you go to sleep right now.” Darcy pulled Jane along by the arm and Jane let her. Darcy knew that Jane wasn’t really trying, for a such a small person, Jane could put up a lot of fight. The hairs of Darcy’s arm rose and she glanced back at Jane, whose eyes had narrowed.

“Is there something going on tonight that you want me out of the way for?”

“Noooo…”

“Darcy,” Jane whined, “come on, if you’re going to make me go to sleep, at least tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s just a movie night okay?”

“Oh. Well. Is Thor going?”

“Yeah.”

“What movie are we watching?”

“The Princess Bride.”

“Oh! Can I come watch too?”

Darcy thought about it for a second. It meant letting Jane stay up for another couple of hours, but it basically guaranteed that she’d actually sleep. Since if Darcy just put her in her room, then Jane might try and escape. She would fail, but Darcy would still have to spend some time tracking Jane down and that seemed like a lot of work now that there was an alternative.

“Sure. But. But! You _have_ to sleep for eight hours after.”

“… Fine.”


	19. Avengers Assemble  - Movie Night Edition

Jane, Darcy and Thor all made their way up to the cinema since it turned out Darcy was the only who knew where it was. It was still dark and when Darcy raised an eyebrow, it was 5 minutes ‘till 6, she’d expected _someone_ to be there already.

“Miss Darcy, Sir has asked me to update you, everyone is now meeting in the shared kitchen for pizza.”

“Oh. Okay cool, we are on our way up.” Darcy turned and Thor looked a lot more excited at the idea of food. “You a fan of pizza Thor?”

“I am indeed Darcy, it a fine food.”

“Cool, what kind are you going to want?”

“I am a fan of the ‘meat lover’” Thor said sounding thoughtful, “although it’s always good to question what this Midgardian ‘Pee-Zah’ is.” Thor grinned and Darcy smiled back at him.

“Sometimes I love that you are the trickster god’s brother.”

“He was a good brother for many years.” Thor were sightless for a moment, seemingly t remembering days long past, “it was always easy to get away with small tricks because everyone would blame him, and Loki himself didn’t mind as long as I was sneaky and the prank was successful.”

“Have I told you about my brother, Hamish?”

“No, I don’t believe you have.”

“I don’t talk about him much, but he might come visit for Christmas so I thought I might as well tell you about him a bit.” Darcy said, purposefully not looking at Thor, who was quiet. Darcy had mentioned Hamish to Jane before, but no one else. “He’s a mutant so he lives up north. He. When he was a kid, an early days villain kidnapped him for his mutation. He was gone for 10 years.”

“That is terrible! What the name of this villain?” Thor boomed as they entered the elevator.

“Moriarty. I shot him. I was 17. I wasn’t sure of much at that age, but I knew I would do anything for Hamish.” Jane looked at Darcy and Darcy looked away. She hadn’t mentioned that part before.

“I fitting beginning for my lightening-sister!” Thor said, almost softly, his own first kill hadn’t happened until he was well into his second century, but humans had shorter lifespans so perhaps it was appropriate.

“Yeah. Anyway, I wanted to let you know. Hamish is… special… I…” The door opened and Darcy went quite. “I love him with all my heart, so please try to be understanding.” She said, then walked out into the wide open space.

“Hey Ladybug, good of you to join us. What kind of pizza do you want.”

“Margarita for me, a meat lover for Thor, and a veggie for Jane. Thanks Tony!” Darcy smiled and pretended she couldn’t feel Thor’s gaze on her. “What’s up Clint?”

Clint looked up from the sofa he was sprawled on. “Ugh. I scared Lucky when I went to my apartment today and he shat all over the place.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.” Clint said, sounding so done, “I think I’m going to move into the tower. I’ve kept my old apartment for ages, and now that SHIELD isn’t paying for it, it really isn’t worth it. Also, Hydra’s tried to break in like 4 times now since they have it on file.”

“Wow. You need to make a Superhero Problems hashtag on twitter.”

“Ha! SHIELD would never-“ There was a pause as Clint remembered that SHIELD was gone. “Oh. Yeah. I will.”

“Hi Darcy,” a soft voice said from behind Darcy’s left shoulder.

“FUCKING HELL NAT!”

And now Clint and Tony were laughing at her. Fuck them. Darcy stuck out her tongue at Clint, who only started laughing harder. “I hate you guys.”

“Don’t say that Darcy,” Sam said, tugging Captain Buttface behind him. Luckily the Winter Stalker seemed to be absent.

“Fuck you too Sam, fuck you too.”

“Honestly, such language!” Sam said laughing, “Mr. Stark! Have you learned about what pizza-movie nights are now? Darcy, did you know that Mr. Stark here didn’t know what a pizza-movie night was!” Sam sounded so confused.

“Call me Tony, Mr. Stark was my father,” “Call me Tony, Mr. Stark was my father,” Darcy and Tony said at the same time. Darcy had done her best to do a deep, insulting copy of Tony’s voice and Tony shot her a betrayed look.

“My own child! Attacking me! Defend me, Jarvis!”

“Of course, Sir. Bad Darcy. No. Bad Darcy.” Jarvis deadpanned.

“I’m Jarvis’ favourite!” Darcy said laughing, then she stuck her tongue out at Tony because she was a mature human being.

“Also Sam, I didn’t now what pizza-movie night was until I went to university…”

“Seriously?! What is with you people?”

“Um. None of us had normal childhoods.” Darcy said, giving a gesture at the alien, russian spy, child genius they had assembled among others.”

“Wait. Who are you again?” Tony said, looking up from his phone for a moment.

“Sam. Sam Wilson.” Sam said, in a long suffering tone of someone who had introduced himself dozens of times.

“Cool, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Hawaiian please, and Steve here will have two margaritas because he’s boring.”

“I’m not boring, it’s _classic_.”

“ _Sure_ it is, old man.” Natasha said laughing as she draped an arm over Captain Buttface’s shoulder. Clint looked at Natasha and whined,

“Nattttttt……. You never hang out with me anymore!”

“Clint. I beat you at monopoly _yesterday_.”

“Exactly! You attacked me! That’s not hanging out! You never want to cuddle anymore.” Clint pouted and Darcy laughed,

“That’s because you smell like dog shit Hot Guy.”

“It’s not Hawkguy it’s - Oh. Hot Guy. I can deal with that.”

People drifted into pods, Natasha, Sam, and Captain Buttface. Tony, Jane, and Dr. Banner (when did he appear?) were talking enthusiastically about something. Thor was… wait. Where did Thor go? Darcy looked around for a moment, ah. There he was, he was pretending he didn’t understand how the toaster worked. Again. Darcy held back a laugh as Clint wandered over to show him how to use it.

It worked every time.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Ms. Darcy?”

“Can you take a couple pictures of this for me?”

“Of course, where would you like a to save it?”

“Um. Family folder.”

“Yes Ms. Darcy.” Jarvis said, sounding approving.


	20. Feelings are not a Stark's Forte

“So, does anyone have any plans for Christmas?” Darcy asked, trying to sound casual as she nibbled nervously at her pizza.

“I’m going home for Christmas Eve and Day but I’ll be here for the rest of it.” Sam said, in response to the sudden quiet.

“I’m out of town for Christmas Eve and Day and maybe a few days before or after as well, Nat you’re coming with right?”

“Yes, Clint, I’m coming with you.” Natasha spoke in a slightly condescending tone, like an owner to their dog, but Clint perked up anyway and Natasha had a slightly smile in her voice.

“I shall be staying here on Midgard with Jane.” Thor said, giving Jane an almost nervous glance. In response, she put a hand on Thor’s thigh and gave him a quick kiss, he then gave one of his huge grins. It almost made Darcy forget about his long pause and the small glance to the side, as if to remember that he didn’t really have a choice. That he was stuck here on Earth.

“Well there’s the Maria Stark Foundation Party, you are all invited of course.” Tony said, taking a large gulp of the cheap beer Clint had provided, insisting that it was the only appropriate drink to go with pizza.

“I’m staying here,” Bruce said with a shrug, as if to say _it’s not as if I have anywhere else to go._

“Bucky and I will be staying as well - as long as it’s okay with Tony.” Captain Buttface said with his ‘I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you’ face that Darcy had only heard of. It was just as manipulative as described. Tony shrugged again.

“Hey Tony,” Darcy looked around there room for escape. But she’d started it, now it was too late. “Do you mind if my family comes?” Darcy doesn’t say, ‘the rest of my family’ but she wants to. Because despite the fact that she’s now known her biological father for over two weeks - she hasn’t purposefully told anyone besides Papa and Dad. Tony might’ve told someone but she hasn’t heard anything about it.

“Not at all. More the merrier.” Tony grinned and Darcy’s stomach turns at how fake it is, “how many people?”

“Two, maybe three.”

“Cool, which floor are you on?”

“Oh! Uh- I’m on Thor’s floor in the guest room.” Tony gave a shocked gasp.

“Well that will not do! I’ll get your floor ready and then tomorrow you can pick out the furniture.” Tony paused and gave a slightly evil grin, “unless you want me to do it…”

“No no.” Darcy said waving her hand dismissively (and perhaps a bit frantic), “it’s fine. I got it”

“Excellent now- Pepper!”

“Pepper?” Darcy asked, before she heard the click, click, click of heels that she new associated with Miss Potts.

“Oh there you are Tony,” Miss Potts said, walking across the room to give Tony a quick kiss before pulling up a chair and putting her heeled feet into Tony’s lap. Darcy pauses before taking a bite, she really hopes Tony doesn’t have a foot fetish or something because that would be awkward. Like _really_ awkward. “Hello Steve, how is James doing - better I hope?”

“He is,” Captain Buttface sighed and Darcy thought it was unfair that he sounded like a worldweary hero instead of a jackass who allowed his friend to stalk innocent women.

On the other hand, Miss Potts _liked_ Captain Buttface? What?! Darcy took a mid-sized gulp of _really awful_ beer, the kind she’d thought she would never have to re-visit after university, and tried to pretend that she was on the side of the good in this conflict. But, the longer this went on, the more she felt like the asshole. She didn’t blame Bucky or the Winter Solider for what they’d done - not anymore - so could she really blame Captain Buttface?

Darcy shook it off - of course she could. (She pretended that it didn’t feel like rot at the back of her head, a mould at her heart. )

The dinner carried on, pauses were rare as Darcy realised that the Avengers knew and liked each other better than she’d realised. Yeah, there would be conflict from time to time, particularly between Captain Am- Buttface and Tony, but Miss Potts or Dr. Banner seemed to help move past it.

As the meal drew to an end, Darcy drinking her last sip of beer, Thor finishing his last four slices, Miss Potts gave Tony a weighted look.

Tony stood up.

He tapped a knife (the only utensil on the table) on his beer.

Silence.

Tony looked at Darcy for long moment, and Darcy felt her stomach fall through the floor.

“Ladies, Gentleman, and Assholes - I’m talking to you Barton - I have a very important announcement to make. I recently learned that I, in fact, have a child.” No one spoke. For a long, long, ten seconds there was dead silence. Finally, _finally_ , Tony continued, “luckily, you already know this person so you don’t have to meet anyone new-“

“You finally admit it - that you’re my father!” Clint said, sounding stupidly dramatic and the mood immediately lifting.

“This is why I called you an asshole Clint. And no. You’re not my kid. Thank god.” Tony said, smiling. “No, my child is Darcy Lewis,” _Oh Jesus. I’m not ready! They’re all looking at me! They’re all looking at me!_ “Darcy, I bring this up here because it has been brought to my attention that you may think I’m ashamed of you. I’m not. In fact, I’m incredibly proud.” Darcy had to laugh, Tony looked _so_ uncomfortable. “As of today, you are going to inherit Stark industries, when I die, and have a sizeable trust fund. Also, you know, all the other things being the kid of a rich person entails.” Tony paused then waved a hand dismissively, “we can go over it later.”

After that Tony stopped. And sat down. And after some immeasurable amount of time Darcy realised everyone was waiting for her to say something.

“Well shit. This means I _have_ to invite Uncle Mike to Christmas.” Darcy’s mouth said, _without her permission._

Natasha laughed, Tony looked relieved.

“Guys, guys, this is big news, why don’t you look more surprised?” Tony said, his normal needy persona back on. Natasha laughed again, - and it was just as unnerving as the first time she heard it.

“I think,” Dr. Banner said, “what Natasha means to say,” Natasha raised an eyebrow, “is that we already knew.”

“Yep.” Clint said, grabbing another beer.

“Sorry Mr. Stark-“

“-Tony-“ Tony interrupts.

“But I was there when Darcy found out.” Sam continues, “and Steve was there when Darcy freaked out about it.”

“ _I_ didn’t know.” Jane says, giving Darcy a hurt look, Thor joins her.

“‘Nor did I.”

All the sudden everyone is giving her a judgemental look.

“Hey!” Darcy says, putting her hands up in surrender, “it’s not in my nature to share information voluntarily.”

“Huh.” Miss Potts says, “I can see the resemblance all the sudden.” And the tension Darcy hadn’t noticed rising was suddenly back down again. Sam and Miss Potts were so good at controlling the room - the tension - making people feel relaxed and now jealousy is burning low in Darcy’s stomach. (She’s around so many extraordinary people, and even the ones who aren’t superheroes are better than her.)

“So now that Tony’s gotten _his_ dramatic reveal out of the way, does _anyone else_ have something to share.” Natasha says, very clearly _not looking_ at anyone at the table. Darcy’s pretty sure it’s not aimed at her. But no one says anything for a long moment before Miss Potts speaks up,

“Alright, what movie are we watching, Tony?” She asks standing up, pushing the first domino, now everyone is standing up and Tony is talking a thousand miles an hour.

Darcy is left with the feeling like she missed something. It’s an ugly feeling.


	21. On the Back Foot

The movie draws to a close and Darcy pulls herself back to awareness. Tony and Jane are fast asleep on their respective partners. Clint and Natasha are both in a nest that Clint had insisted on building - both looking alert and aware but from experience Darcy thinks they’re comfortable. Sam looks half asleep laid out on one of the sofas, and it occurs to Darcy that she’s probably not the only one in the tower that has a hard time sleeping.

Dr. Banner had left at one point - supposedly for tea - but never came back. Captain Buttface left at one point when Jarvis had said his name quietly - unfortunately he _did_ come back. Darcy is almost tempted to yawn, and stretch and fall asleep right there, but she doesn’t know these people well enough and she would prefer not to wake up crying in front of Captain Buttface.

She stands, and yawns and behind her there is a rustling.

“Sam, do you want to sleep here?”

“Nah, I’ll get up in mo-“ Sam pauses to yawn, “-ment.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Darcy hears Captain Buttface say, then there’s another rustle and Darcy turns to see Sam being carried princess style.

“Dude.” Sam says, clearly unable to protest much more when he’s about to pass out. “Wait. Are you doing this to avoid-“ There is a pause less than a second long before Sam hisses “Darcy!” in a low sharp voice. Darcy reluctantly walks over to where the two of them are. “Steve here, has something to say to you.”

“Um.” Captain Buttface looks like he’s been thrown onto the back foot. “Bucky wants to see you again. If you wanted. He said it’s fine if you don’t-“

“No- it’s fine.” Darcy interrupts. She’d not really sure why she’s saying it. It’s not fine. She doesn’t want to go. She doesn’t want to have to see the stupid blond idiot again and she’d rather avoid the brain fucked assassin. But now that she’d dizzy with lack of sleep and her brain isn’t functioning quite right she keeps thinking of Hamish. And she has no choice but to say yes.

“Thanks. Ah. Just let Jarivs know when you’re available and- ah-“ Sam is snickering. “We’ll - I’ll - He’ll. We’ll set something up.” The blond idiot runs away and Darcy is left standing in a dark theatre feeling - once more - like she’s missed something.


	22. Phone Call Interlude #2

“Hey Papa,” Darcy said, laying in bed looking at the ceiling. The tension that had been thrumming in her veins had finally released. Tony hadn’t screamed at her, or told her that he didn’t want her, or any of the unlikely scenarios that had been running through her head for the past week.

“Hi Darcy,” Papa said, sounding out of breath but still amused, “finally stopped procrastinating?” There was a crash and Papa grunted. Darcy laughed at how accurate he was at guessing her actions.

“Yeah,”

“Well, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news.” Papa said, Darcy heard him grunt again, then she heard him shout, “Sherlock! Take care of him! I’ve got Darcy on the phone!”

“Yes John!” She heard Dad distantly reply.

“Anyway,” Papa continued, “good news is that Hamish is doing well and can join us for a week at Christmas. Bad news is that Mycroft must’ve been feeling left out so he bought tickets to New York.”

“How the hell did know?!” Darcy exclaimed, Uncle Mike always seemed to know when something important was going on.

* “Well. If I had to hazard a gu-ugh!” Darcy waited semi-patiently as she heard Papa drop his phone. She sat up and tried to balance a pencil on her finger as she listened to the background fighting. After a few minutes of grunts; slaps of impacting skin; and stomping feet; Dad picks up the phone.

“Hello Dumpling, John is patching up one of the idiots who got himself stabbed-“

“You stabbed him!”

“-so I’ll be talking to you for the next 7 minutes until the ambulance arrives. Where were you?”

“Hi Dad, um, I was asking how Uncle Mike knew to come to this Christmas.”

“Hmm. Try and deduce it for me.” Darcy sighed, Dad always did this. He wanted her to try and get to the answer herself, which was more memorable and helped her to improve her deduction skills but sometimes, she really wished she could get a straight answer from him. That said, she knew better than to try and fight it at this point. Dad _would not budge._

“Okay let’s see…” Darcy took deep breath as she tried to sort out her thoughts. “Uncle Mike either learned the ‘big news’ directly or indirectly.” Darcy knew that Dad would tell her if she was going the wrong way but he didn’t say anything so she tried to continue. “Considering the fact that he’s trying to train his protege right now, is distracted with Uncle Greg, and is most likely still obscenely busy - as usual- he probably didn’t learn it himself. That would’ve taken a fair bit of time if not effort.” _What else could she guess? Alright, in all likelihood he learned it indirectly. Therefore: he had a spy in Hydra, Dad or Papa had told him, he had a spy in Stark Industries, Darcy’s personal spies told him, his spies in (what was left of) SHIELD told him. There was probably more but she had to start somewhere. Dad wouldn’t have told Uncle Mike because he would prefer to taunt him about it. Unless Dad thought Darcy was at risk… Oh. But Darcy could be at risk._ “Dad?”

“Yes Darcy?”

“Did you tell him?”

“Good try, please explain your reasoning.”

“Um, let’s see… You knew, therefore you could be a source, I thought you were the least likely possibility so I was trying to eliminate you first-“

“That’s not an efficient method Dumpling, I’ve told you this.”

“But it’s easier to do if it’s more likely and if I can eliminate it, then I have a smaller field of possibilities.”

“Yes, you’ve said that before,” Dad sighed, “but you need to focus on the most likely ideas first. If you are in a dangerous situation and only have a limited amount of time it can make a the difference between life and death.”

“Okay,” Darcy sighed, she already knew that she wouldn’t be any good at deduction in the field. She didn’t do it as quickly or easily as Dad or Uncle Mike, she had to focus on it. That said, Dad wasn’t going to accept her doing anything other than her best. “Fine.” Darcy took another deep breath, recentering herself.

 _What evidence could I collect that told me that Dad_ didn’t _tell Uncle Mike? One, Dad hates to tell Uncle Mike things. Two, there is no clear and imminent threat to my life that could cause Dad to panic - unless there is something I missed. Three, Dad and Uncle Mike don’t talk regularly so they might not’ve had the chance to communicate._

“This is easier in person ya’ know.” Darcy said - she wasn’t whining, whining was for small kids not people who paid bills and had a university education.

“Yep. Good thing you’re not here then. It’s important to learn new things and practice things that are hard.”

“What that from that guy online that said ‘practice is horrible’?”

“No. ‘Perfect practice makes perfect’ and ‘perfection is horrible’ are the quotes you are thinking of. And also possibly ‘repetition is hard’.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Dumpling, stop delaying.”

“Right! Okay, have you talked to Uncle Mike recently?”

“No Darcy, use perfect practice - start with the most likely situation.”

And on it went. Each step encouraged or criticised as Darcy drew herself closer and closer to the correct conclusion. In days long gone past when Darcy had first been learning the basics of deduction, Dad (or Sherlock as he’d been known at the time) had spent well over an hour coaching her through a case of theft to a logical conclusion. At the end of which he’d said,

“Good job Darcy, very logical conclusion. Completely wrong, but it’s understandable….” Darcy had refused to even try doing deductions until Papa (John, at the time) had explained to Sherlock that it wasn’t nice or helpful to do it like that. He’d explained to Sherlock that he had to help push her in the right direction. Since then Dad would still let her flounder for a bit, but never go completely wrong. So, as the ten minutes she’d expected to be talking to them passed, she eventually reached:

“Okay, so Uncle Mike knows from an old friend who _is_ a spy-slash-agent of something-slash-someone but _isn’t_ working for Uncle Mike. This person most likely has personal connections to _either_ someone in the tower, _or_ Hydra.”

“Yes.”

“That’s all you have.” Darcy deadpanned. That was a lot of work for not a lot of answer.

“Yes.”

“Gee Dad, thanks.”

“Darcy,” Dad said, using his ‘I’m trying very hard not to insult you’ voice, “what information did you start with?”

“Uncle Mike is coming to Christmas.” That was easy, it was one of the first pieces that Dad had drilled into Darcy, look at where you start, look at where you’ve ended.

“Where did you end?”

“Uncle Mike has a friend in Hydra or in the Avengers.”

“Not entirely accurate but a reasonable summary. As I’ve always told you Darcy, it’s not magic. You need information to reach the answer. And some of it is information I just don’t have.”

“Right. Sorry Dad.”

“Thank you for the apology Darcy. And while you worked admirably, and have reached the conclusion I personally think is most likely, there is another possibility.” Dad didn’t even wait for an answer, “he might just want to see you for Christmas,” they both quietly scoffed. Uncle Mike was, like Dad, of the belief that there was nothing particularly special about Christmas and that if he wanted to give Darcy something, or wanted to see her, he didn’t have to wait for a useless annual event. “Now, John wants to talk to you while I take a shower. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Dad, love you!”

“I love you too Dumpling.” Darcy listened to Dad passing over the phone then, heard Papa’s smiling voice in her ear, reassuring as always.

“That was very impressive Darcy,”

“Thanks Papa,” Darcy liked that Papa always had a kind word to share about her deductions, even if they were slow or flawed.

“Now, as I was saying, Sherlock, Hamish and I will all be coming for at least a week. I might stay a couple days more, Dad will as well if I have a say in it.” That meant there was at least a 75% chance that they would both stay, the exception being if there was a _very_ interesting crime that ‘just could’t wait. “Mycroft is coming for somewhere between one and three days and is bringing Greg with him.”

“Oh! Have they finally gotten officially together?”

“No. But, Greg’s divorce has been finalised and he’s currently sleeping in one of Mycroft’s guest rooms.”

“Huh.” Darcy said, she wanted to be happy. But. They were her uncles - neither by blood but they may as well have been, and it was fucking awkward.

“To be honest that’s my feeling on it as well - still.” It had been a topic of a few awkward sentences for years, drawing to the seemingly inevitable conclusion of Uncle Mike and Uncle Greg retiring in bliss together to enjoy their old age eating cake and going on slow paced runs. Or whatever it was they did together - she’d really rather not know. “Anyway, Darcy,” Papa said, drawing her mind back to the topic of actual conversation, “should I have Mycroft get us all rooms at a fancy hotel?”

“Uhhh. For the sake of everyone’s sanity Uncle Mike and Uncle Greg should definitely get a hotel.”

“… Agreed…”

“But I should have enough room for you, Dad, and Hamish by the start of next week.”

“Really? That’s fast.”

“Yeah, I mentioned it to Tony and somehow ended up with my own floor.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yep.”

“That. It-“

“Yep, it’s weirdly reminisce of Uncle Mike when he was trying to figure out this whole ‘family thing’.”

“Okay then.”

“Yep.” Darcy drawled. There was a slam and an enthused “John!” and she knew their call had finished.

“I love you Darcy.”

“I love you Papa, I’ll talk to you later.”


	23. Better than Those Before - Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sees a reflection of himself. A violin speaks where words can't. The Ice Man loves. Moriarty both is, and isn't dead. And for Starks, it’s not a matter of possibility, only of time.

Sherlock Holmes on Darcy Lewis

To the surprise of most people, it’s not John who decides to adopt Darcy, it’s Sherlock. At the start, John is merely present. It happens because they’re on a case and the orphanage director is corrupt. Sherlock is looking through the kids' rooms, trying to find where the cash is hidden when one of the doors refuses to open. Reluctantly, he knocks. There’s shuffling and a,

 

“Just a second,” and then the door opens to reveal a young girl. Sherlock’s not exactly sure how old because she’s small enough to be as young as 8 but her bone structure suggests she could be as old as 13. Her hair is messy and tied up is a ponytail. It’s lumpy and clearly for function not the way it looks. Her hands are still and in front of her in a way that makes Sherlock think that she wants to be hiding them behind her but also knows that would be suspicious. 

 

“Give me your hands.” Sherlock says, and without waiting he lifts one up to near eye level. They’ve got indents around the fingertips and there’s a smudge of oil, or perhaps grease on the side of her thumb. There are calluses in strange places and the skin is rough from lack of lotion or over washing. The knuckles are bruised and scabbed but not in the right places to have been from a fist fight. (On the top not the front.) Sherlock drops her hand and walks past her into the small room.

 

Unlike with the other rooms, this girl is alone. It’s a bunk bed like all the other rooms, but where most rooms have four children in there, this one only has one bunk bed and one child. Instead there’s a desk made of clearly recycled furniture. There’s a cardboard movers box that sits closed, next to the desk. Sherlock opens it up to reveal a radio which is half way to being taken apart.

 

“Please don’t tell Mr. Manning.” The girl whispers, “he doesn’t like when I fix things. Even when I put them back together afterwards.” She’s absently rubbing the knuckles on her right hand, which twitches slightly. Sherlock stands. He doesn’t move, he’s not sure he can. He’s seen so many children in the homeless network. He’s done his best to make it better for them. He’s tried to make sure they don’t end up on drugs, that as few as possible die from the cold, or hunger. He know, he _knows,_ that they would refuse to move into Baker Street even if he offered. They’d each been burned too many times. 

 

But this girl. 

 

This girl makes him think of himself. Makes him think of decomposing birds in boxes under his bed. Makes him think of children laughing when he can’t answer a question - not because he’s stupid - but because he wasn’t listening. This girl makes him think of doctor after doctor. This girl makes him think of the papers that are still floating around where he is “Subject S.H.”. 

 

Before he realises it John is in the room and touching his shoulder, the girl is speaking stumbling sentence,

 

“I didn’t do anything! He just- I just- I wasn’t doing anything-“ Then as an after thought, “Please don’t tell Mr. Manning.”

 

“Sherlock, are you okay?” Sherlock turns and looks at John, he goes quiet all the time, why’s he so worried? “You’ve turned quite pale. Even more so than usual, which is saying something.” John attempts a smile but his brow is still furrowed and he’s looking at Sherlock’s hands- Oh. Sherlock looks down. He’s scratched his hands like he had as a child. He hadn’t done it in years. They’re bleeding now. 

 

“I need to go. Mr. Manning is in on it as well,” _Obviously_ “the money is in with his stuff. Talk to his ex-wife, she’ll know where it is if you can’t find it.” Then Sherlock leaves because he’s been scratching his hands and now they’re red and vaguely painful. 

 

***

 

Two names stick in Sherlock’s head. George Manning. And Darcy Lewis. After the case, which really should’ve been solved by the police - so simple! So obvious! Sherlock had looked at the files for each of the children, trying to identify if any of the them had been sexually assaulted, George Manning was the type to have done so, but luckily he had seen no evidence to support it. The girl though - the one with the broken radio and beaten knuckles - she wouldn’t leave his head. 

 

Sherlock knows that he isn’t anyone's idea of a fit parent. But he also knows that there are very few people who understanding being a child genius and that makes him more qualified than anyone else to look after Darcy Lewis. 

 

***

Sherlock Holmes on Hamish Watson

***

It’s spring time, Sherlock knows this because there are a lot of cases of robbery in spring time. He does not know what month it is - that information is mostly irrelevant and changes far too often for him to bother saving. It’s evening time and John is making omelettes. Sherlock thinks he might be feeling sad. John is often sad these days, he shuffles his feel and looks down and to the left more often. Sherlock guess that he’s thinking of Hamish and Mary. 

 

Sherlock’s not sure what to do when this happens, so he plays violin. He tries to play a song for Hamish. It starts slowly, but sort of cheerful and gets faster and more complex as Hamish ages. A vague smile at Sherlock’s voice, eyes open but not yet strong enough to see. Stumbling across two feet into Sherlocks arms. Saying his first words. Sherlock thinks of the way that Hamish would relax when held. The music drops and turns suspenseful and Sherlock falls into his mind palace and remembers the first time Hamish aged up. 

 

_Hamish had been sitting on the sofa and Sherlock had been explaining that the antibiotics in Mary’s milk were important for Hamish’s health. In the past few days the infant hadn’t been drinking enough, he’d cried and screamed and Sherlock had been the only one able to console him. Sherlock had turned around and let the light from the window shine through the plastic bottle. It had been quiet for a moment before Sherlock had heard a voice._

 

_“Bah… milll…” Sherlock had spun around to find that Hamish, previously 4 months and two weeks old, now appeared to be around a year and a half old. He was clearly struggling to shape the words, but Sherlock was too shocked to do much of anything besides watch. “Bah mil!” Hamish looked frustrated. “Bad milk Sher-ock!”_

 

_“Bad milk?” Sherlock had said, positively dumbstruck._

 

_“Yea!”_

 

_“What’s wrong with it?” Hamish had paused then stuck a chubby finger on his tongue. “It tastes bad?” Sherlock queried and Hamish had nodded._

 

Sherlock wasn’t particularly aware of what the ‘real world’ was doing but he knew the violin was slow and soft, sad. 

 

_John and Mary were holding each other as Sherlock explained that Hamish must be a mutant. Mary hadn’t looked very surprised. They both looked sad though._

 

_“John, why-“ Sherlock felt unsure, having a child with the X-Gene, it wasn’t that bad was it? “Why are you sad?” John had looked at him with that not quite pitying look that Sherlock got when he was acting like an inhuman freak._

 

_“Children with the X-Gene are more likely to be killed, or hurt. He’ll never have normal life. There is only one school in the world where he’ll be among his peers and it’s basically a school for child soldiers. England is better than many countries. But. We’ll either have to hide it, homeschool him and raise him in isolation, or send him to the school run by Charles Xavier.” Sherlock had felt confused at that moment, Hamish’s ability was not particularly weaponised like many other children’s, so it would seem unlikely that Hamish would become on of the X-Men._

 

The violin is jumping around, reflecting the curiosity and confusion that Sherlock had felt. The excitement and love.

 

_“Get bigger Hamish.” Sherlock had said slowly to the toddler. He watched carefully as Hamish got bigger and bigger. Luckily Sherlock had remembered to but him into a large white t-shirt that was probably once John’s. As Hamish grew his features changed and he was 4, maybe 5._

 

_“No bigger.” Hamish said, crossing his arms and looking serious._

 

_“Why not?”_

 

_“”Cause. No bigger.” Sherlock tilted his head to convey curiosity._

 

_“Why won’t you get bigger? Is it because you don’t want to or because you can’t?” Hamish paused and looking at Sherlock then he shook is head._

 

_“No bigger.”_

 

_Sherlock wanted to push harder, to understand. Nothing about this X-Gene made sense. It should’ve only changed one piece, but instead there seemed to be a lot more involved. And from a biological perspective Hamish was a goldmine. He could get younger as well as older, did that make him immortal? Because his cells were able do divide so quickly could he heal faster?_

 

_The door at the bottom of the stairs closed and Sherlock listened as John walked up the steps._

 

_“Up.” Hamish insisted, sticking his arms out._

 

_“Lift me up, please” Sherlock corrected, taking Hamish up in his arms. John always insisted Sherlock encourage Hamish to be polite and though Sherlock didn’t understand why, he tried._

 

The music evens out into a more cheerful noise.

 

_John had taken Hamish up to bed, it was his 6th birthday and there were no children. Just Sherlock, John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Mycroft (who’d left over an hour ago). When John came back down and the guests had left Mary and John turned to him._

 

_“It’s not healthy - not having anyone his age.” Mary started, she paused for a moment then said, “we are going to move to America, to a house near Xavier’s Institute. He’ll keep on being homeschooled. But we want him to be able to play with children his age.” Sherlock looked at John, who looked guilty._

 

_“We’re moving soon. Our flight’s in six months, we’ve already bought the house.” John said, sounding strange._

 

_“Okay.” Sherlock had said, not seeing the problem._

 

_“We’ll visit.” John said abruptly, “as often as we can.” He tacked on._

 

_“Why?” Sherlock asked confused, “wouldn’t it make more sense for me to just come with you?” John and Mary shared a look, the kind Sherlock was never able to decipher._

 

_“Sherlock,” John started, “you love London.” Sherlock stared at John._

 

_“Do you not want me to come?” Sherlock asked, it seemed the only plausible explanation._

 

_“What? Of course I want you to come- of course we want you to come. But you’re life is here.” John’s face was red. Sherlock wasn’t sure why. Sherlock looked at John for another long moment._

 

_“I’m your best man.” Sherlock lands on finally. He doesn’t have the right words to explain that London isn’t his without John in it. Without John, London might as well be Brighton. And John knows how Sherlock feels about Brighton._

 

_“I-“ John starts to speak again, but Mary, who has been watching Sherlock closely, puts a hand on John’s shoulder. Sherlock’s not sure why. Why is the shoulder so significant?_

 

_“Sherlock, do you want to come with us?”_

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“Okay.”_

 

_And that’s that. Mycroft isn’t happy, but Mycroft’s never happy when it comes to Sherlock’s decisions._

 

Sherlock plays out the delicate hope that had filled the home. He’s not quite sure why those words come to mind. He suspects that John had used them on his blog. Then, as the notes rise into a crescendo, they all fall down.

 

_The crib is empty. Sherlock looks in the closet, Hamish sometimes hides in there when he’s upset but Sherlock is already piecing together what’s happened. The window’s open. The new roof has mud on it. It’s been raining recently. Someone has been walking on the roof. Sherlock runs down stairs and looks at the marks in the grass. A ladder. A truck. There’s a note on the wall._

 

_“I promised.” It says. Sherlock wonders who promised what. He doesn’t touch the note, but there’s something on the back. Sherlock calls John._

 

_“Hamish… Missing… Taken…” Sherlock can’t remember what he said. What he remembers is grabbing his lab gloves over his hands and carefully lifting the note upside down so he can see the back. The tape pulls at the new paint on the house so much bigger than London houses._

 

_There’s a drawing. A crude crayon drawing of a burning heart. At first Sherlock’s confused. He wonders if it’s not meant for him. Or if it’s something  common he’s deleted. Then he remembers a dead psychopath’s taunting words._

 

_“I’ll burn the heart out of you Sherlock.”_

 

Sherlock’s not playing music anymore so much and ripping the bow back and forth in a screech. 

 

_There is crying and Sherlock is empty. This is so much worse than committing fake suicide. Then Mary disappears and they throw themselves into the hunt. But the trail's gone cold less than 48 hours later. They were in a van which went onto a highway. That could mean anything. They could be anywhere._

 

_Sherlock called Mycroft._

 

_Sherlock called Lestrade._

 

_Sherlock called the contacts he’s made in Europe who he dares not name - not even in his head._

 

_No one knows anything._

 

Sherlock lets the bow fall. There is no happy ending in this story. Or if there is, they haven’t reached it yet.

 

***

Mycroft Holmes on Sherlock Holmes, Darcy Lewis, and Hamish Watson

***

Mycroft only met Hamish Watson 6 times, once on each of this birthdays. When Hamish disappeared there was very little reason for Mycroft to feel particularly upset. And yet all he could think about was Hamish’s sixth birthday during which Hamish had tugged on his sleeve and got frosting all over Mycroft’s suit. All he can think of is Hamish’s fourth birthday where Hamish - starved of new people - begged Mycroft to tell him a story, any story. And Mycroft had done his best to tell Hamish about Sherlock as a child. 

 

Mycroft didn’t mention that he and Sherlock had been equally deprived of social peers. In part because it wasn’t completely true - they’d had each other. Also because he didn’t want to think about it.

 

He didn’t want to think of empty houses and Sherlock’s tiny feet as he ran up to Mycroft. He didn’t want to think about his younger brother who refused to speak expect to Mycroft. No matter how the doctors asks, or pleaded, or tried to trick him, Sherlock remained silent. Mycroft once begged his brother to speak to someone, anyone else. Just so they could be left alone. Sherlock had looked at him, so betrayed. 

 

_Mycroft yawned as he entered the kitchen, he had been awake late the previous night working and was grabbing a couple of eggs for breakfast when Sherlock came in. Held tight in his hands was a newspaper, detailing some murder or another like usual. Except. When Sherlock put the paper on the counter, Mycroft glanced at it. It wasn’t a murder it was ‘Tragic Accident Takes Life of Young Swimmer’ Mycroft turns back to his eggs._

 

_“Mycroft.” Sherlock says, his voice tight with what Mycroft would guess is frustrated indignation._

 

_“Yes, Sherlock?”_

 

_“This was a murder.”_

 

_“Okay.”_

 

_“I told the police but they didn’t believe me.”_

 

_“You told the police? How?”_

 

_“I called them on the phone. They said that I should be in school.”_

 

_“Hmm. Yes, they are rather incompetent aren’t they.” Mycroft doesn’t mention that Sherlock spoke to someone. To anyone other than himself. This was a good thing. It was a good thing. A good thing. Mycroft still could not get the feeling of dread to lift._

 

_“Why aren’t we in school Mycroft?”_

 

_“Many reasons.” Mycroft said, although there was one main reason, the doctors said to keep them together so that Sherlock could ‘learn to speak’. The idiots. The only reason they said that was that they tried separating them but Sherlock had just gone 4 months without saying a word._

 

_“Are they going to send me to school now?”_

 

_“Perhaps.”_

 

_“Why don’t you believe me when I tell you the boy was murdered.”_

 

_“I do believe you.”_

 

_“Then why don’t you do something?!” Sherlock screeched unexpectedly, Mycroft jumped a bit, but pretended he hadn’t._

 

_“People get murdered everyday Sherlock.”_

 

_“Why don’t you do something about it!” Sherlock always believed that Mycroft was far more powerful than he truly was._

 

_“Look Sherlock,” Mycroft said turning off the heat and looking at his younger brother, “I could force the police to look for that one murderer. But I’m not going to. I am going to do my work and I’m going to become important enough to protect people. Instead of chasing down murderers I’m going to stop murders before they happen. But to do that, I need people to like me. And they won’t do that if I tell them that they’re doing their job wrong.”_

 

_“But they are doing their job wrong!”_

 

_“I know. But people are strange, they get offended when people tell them things like that.”_

 

_“You don’t.”_

 

_“I’m not people.”_

 

_Sherlock said nothing as Mycroft put his breakfast not the plate. It wasn’t enough food to be full but it would have to be enough, he had weight to lose. When Mycroft turned back around, Sherlock was gone._

 

Mycroft instead told Hamish about Sherlock being a pirate, about his dog Redbeard.

 

_“Why are they giving me a dog Mycroft?”_

 

_“Because they think it will help you.”_

 

_“Is there something wrong with me?”_

 

_“No, but they think there is.”_

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“Because you’re smarter than they are, not that it’s hard.”_

 

_“They said I should name the dog.”_

 

_“Okay.”_

 

_“I don’t know what you’re supposed to name dogs. In some of the baby books it says they have a dog called Spot. Should I call the dog Spot?”_

 

_“You can if you want to. But Spot is usually a reference to the spots on the dog.”_

 

_“Oh! So a physical identifier!”_

 

_“If you want.” Mycroft said, continuing to mostly ignore Sherlock as he worked on the cypher. It had to be decoded as soon as possible, lives depended on it._

 

_“I’m going to call him Red.”_

 

_“Okay.”_

 

_“Come on Red!” Sherlock said, running down the hall. The dog followed. Mycroft sent the translated message over to his boss._

 

Hamish had wandered off part of the way through - Mycroft wasn’t much of a story teller - but on his fifth birthday Hamish had insisted he finish. Said he’d been thinking about the partly finished story _forever_. 

 

_The dog, who had been named Red, was now Redbeard. And Sherlock had decided he was pirate. Mycroft wasn’t quite sure what to do with this information, but it made Mummy happy, so Mycroft didn’t mind. What he did mind was when Sherlock ran into his room waving around a wooden sword and knocked over his books and radio._

 

_He told Sherlock off and closed the door behind him._

 

_Sherlock came in later, shouting as Mycroft wrote out his report on the latest incident. And Mycroft, working on three hours of sleep and not enough food yelled at Sherlock. Perhaps for the first time in either of their lives._

 

_“I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”_

 

_“Now you’re just being childish Sherlock. Get out.” Mycroft said. Then he closed and locked the door. He had a report to finish._

 

Mycroft had only met Hamish Watson 6 times. And yet he still mattered. 

 

When Sherlock called and begged for help in a way he’d only done twice before, Mycroft had done everything in his power. And Mycroft had a lot of power. CCTV across Europe (though mostly in Britain) swivelled back and forth, looking for one boy among millions. The Scotland Yard, FBI, Interpol, _everyone_ knew to be on the look out for the the stolen Hamish Watson. They had the boy’s picture and knew that he was the son of someone very important. 

 

Mycroft tried. He _tried_ so very, very hard. But there was nothing to be done. Hamish Watson could not be found. 

 

_Sherlock was crying and crying and crying. The veterinarian had said they had to put Redbeard down. Mycroft came with, because Sherlock needed him to. And Mycroft almost always did what Sherlock needed him to._

 

_“Mycroft,” Sherlock said quietly._

 

_“Yes?”_

 

_“Save him. Save Redbeard.”_

 

_“I can’t.”_

 

_“Please Mycroft! Please!” Sherlock moved slowly until he was on his knees and clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “Please Mycroft!”_

 

_“I can’t.” Mycroft repeated, almost in horror, “there is nothing I can do. If there was, I would. But I can’t!”_

 

_“I hate you.” Sherlock whispered. And for the first time, Mycroft believed him._

 

Time passed, as time does, but Mycroft did not move on. Regardless, he continued working, and looking, and generally making sure Britain continued standing. Sherlock visited, just once, and for the first time in years there wasn’t a single comment on his weight. For good reason. Mycroft knew he had lost weight. He knew he’d gotten a new wardrobe since the old one hung loose on what was never supposed to be a thin frame. But, in ironic cliche, food tasted like dirt sitting heavy on his tongue. 

 

_For weeks after Redbeard died Sherlock was spitefully mean to Mycroft. From leaving notes that said, ‘I hate you’ to calling him ‘Fatty’ when there was no one else around. Mycroft left the house and locked the door behind him. Sherlock wasn’t allowed to leave. Mycroft didn’t come back until late that night when Mummy and Father were already home and Sherlock was already asleep. His parents were waiting for him inside. Mummy wasn’t stupid, but she was busy and did whatever the doctors told her too. Even though Mummy was smarter than even Mycroft, she was weak._

 

_“Mike,” Mummy said, “the doctors think it’s time for you to go to school.”_

 

After that Mycroft let Hamish go. He had no other choice. Either he let Hamish go or he let himself go. He could not let himself go, if not for his own good then he would let Hamish go for the sake of Britain. And then, something strange happened. 

 

_“Class, say hello to our new student, Mike Holmes.” The woman said, Mycroft looked at the dishevelled uniforms and bored students. There was a vague murmur of ‘Hello’ and Mycroft took the seat at the front. They’d both been sent off to school. Sherlock to a local primary and Mycroft to a boarding school._

 

 _The teacher kept him after class, commented on how he seemed a bit bored. Mycroft replied that he's already learned this content. He had, he learned it years ago. But when they’d been applying to school the psychiatrist at Mycroft’s work said it was important for him to socialise with his peers. That even if he could pass his GCSEs and A Levels now, he should wait until he was the 'right age' to leave school. Mycroft had barely restrained himself from scoffing._ Sherlock _could pass his GCSEs now. Mycroft was well past that, and he had no peers._

 

Sherlock asked Mycroft for help, and Mycroft obliged, as he usually did. He pulled some strings, ordered illegal acts to be committed, and then Sherlock had a daughter. 

 

Mycroft met Darcy Lewis 6 times in that first year. He was struck by the amount of potential she had. Hamish Watson, regardless of his special mutation, had been a fairly normal human. A normal human with average intellect. Darcy Lewis, was not. She was a bit awkward, but not enough that she would never grow out of it. She was smart, a genius even, but having spent so long around people who didn’t care, she lacked the ego and strange, awkward self centred loathing that many other young geniuses shared. Himself included.

 

_The school yard bullies rarely bothered Mycroft anymore. In part because he has gotten rather good at revenge, and in part because they couldn’t be bothered. They’d reached an agreement. Mycroft didn’t tell anyone about their smoking, drinking, and other misbehaviours, and they left him alone._

 

 _He’s at home now, for Christmas. There is a girl who lives a couple of streets away. She asked him out on a date. Mycroft had scowled and turned her down, aware that this was a dare from her friends. His mother was telling him off now for being rude to such a sweet girl. Sherlock came into his room later. Climbed onto his bed, while Mycroft is working. Sherlock had said, in a voice far louder than it used to be, ‘her friends dared her to ask you out because she’s been talking about you since you left.’ Mycroft didn’t say anything._ Couldn’t _say anything. He felt something though. Many things actually. Shame. Disgust. Self-loathing._

 

_He never apologies to the girl. He can’t find the right words or courage. Mycroft wonders what Sherlock would say. Sherlock was smart and brave enough._

 

_Mycroft never tells a soul, but he’s always known that Sherlock was smarter._

 

She was pretty. It made Mycroft feel terrible to think it, but Darcy Lewis' features were aesthetically pleasing which was important for young women in the modern age. If he could, Mycroft would change it, but he couldn’t. As it was he would be happy that genetics and circumstance somehow allowed young Darcy Lewis is be smart, funny, and pretty. 

 

_Sherlock is stupid enough to be a good parent, brave enough too. Although he didn’t used to be._

 

He never once thought that he was emotionally compromised like most parents were. It didn’t occur to him once.

 

***

J. Moriarty on Hamish Watson

***

Jim’s biggest weakness is that he is _so changeable_. He was the villain of the story, and everyone knew that the villain must have a weakness. So Jim decided he would be changeable. He felt it was a rather clever weakness. It was like how in interviews when they asked what your biggest weakness was you should name a strength disguised as a weakness. Being changeable meant he was flexible. That said, it was his weakness and he was going to stick to it.

 

His most impressive feat, in his own opinion (after succeeding in making a perfect creme brûlée) was dying, and then not actually. Or rather, Jim died, and another replaced him. 

 

 _James working late as usual. Being the head of a massive crime organisation had a few downsides, and working late was one of them. Luckily, tonight was one of the fun nights when he got_ terrify _people who were getting in his way. In fact, he wasn’t really working, so much as eating dinner across from an…_ associate _who’d forgotten their place. The diner was not his style, the food was terrible, and the portion sizes were depressingly large. However, it had really thrown Ms. Johnson off balance. So very off balance._

 

 _As he was there, eating his way through a large plate of pancakes, the small tear opened. Not a normal tear, like one in a suit or on a piece of paper. No, this was a_ special _tear. One in the fabric of reality. James really shouldn’t be able to recognise it. By all rights it_ was _impossible. That said, one of his alliance organisations, Hydra, had been doing some…_ research _and James had been kept updated on it. (Not that they knew that, that was the whole point of spies after all.)_

 

Anyway, _a tear opened up right next to the table James was sitting at, and it got larger, and larger. The correct response to seeing a tear in the universe (if one recognised it) was to run as far as you could as fast as you could. Tears in space were generally a bad idea. James thought it would be an interesting way to die. He wondered if anyone else had died because of one in this reality yet. He hoped no one had, then he would be the_ first _. And wouldn’t that be interesting._

 

_Bigger, and bigger._

 

_It wasn’t a black gaping hole into the abyss that he faced though, it was man in what appeared to be a laboratory. The man was scar faced, and by normal people circumstances, terrifying. James thought he looked a bit like a hopeful puppy._

 

_“Jim? Is that you?”_

 

 _“Jim? That’s rather informal of you,” James said, smiling a_ soul crushing _smile. The kind that made babies quiet and grown men whimper. The man in the other reality grinned._

 

_“It’s you.”_

 

 _“Me?” Came James’ coy reply. Being chased across realities was rather…. mmm how do you say it…_ thrilling _._

 

_“Do you not know who I am?” The man asked, looking… not concerned, surprised perhaps?_

 

_“No.” A short reply as James started to get bored._

 

_“My name is Sebastian Mor-“_

 

 _“I. Don’t. Care.” This was a waste of time. A hole in the space of reality open for all of a minute and James was bored_ bored BORED.

 

“ _You lost. In my reality. You played a game and you lost. So I came to find you.” The man - S-something - said, not mincing words._

 

_“Oh?”_

 

_“Get in loser, we’re going shopping?”_

 

_“Why are you quoting Mean Girls?”_

 

 _“It’s the most effective method to get you to do what I want_ and _not kill me.”_

 

_“I see.”_

 

_“Is it working?”_

 

_“Surprisingly? Yes. Can I just walk through?”_

 

_“Yep.”_

 

_“Convenient.”_

 

_“For you, yes.” The man said with a sigh that told James there was story behind it. Maybe this wouldn’t be so boring after all._

 

 _“Alright.” James, and slid out of the booth. Ms. Johnson was staring. How utterly_ boring. _James aimed his pointer finger at her and shot her with his finger gun. Less than a second later the sniper across the street had a bullet rushing through her head. “Now that_ that’s _taken care of…” James turned and waltzed through the tear, just big enough for him. “How long have I been dead?”_

 

_“Five years.”_

 

_Not boring at all._

 

As it was, Jim’s not sure how he _survived_ without Sebby for all those years before him. Of course, he could do it again if he ever decides to kill him. But he’s _so_ useful. Old Jim’s notes were perhaps slightly less complete than his own. Old Jim had clearly been insane. Jim was insane too of course, but a little… differently. He’s been working on matching up as many characteristics as possible, but old Jim’s obsession with Sherlock Holmes was a little sad. John and Mary Watson, on the other hand. _They_ were interesting. 

 

Mary Watson. 

 

What an deceptively boring name. But he knew the truth. Unlike the old Jim, Jim dealt with Hydra. With the Red Room - or what was left of it. _Jim could see a Black Widow agent when they came along._

 

***

 

Little itty bitty Hamish Watson was a surprise. Was _the_ surprise. Black Widow agents were supposed to be sterilised. Were _definitely_ sterilised. And yet… There seemed to be pretty clear proof that Mary Watson was not. 

 

The mutant part was a surprise too of course. But that could be blamed on chance. It seemed unlikely though. Jim decided he _must_ get his hands on it. Him. On him. (One had to be careful when looking after children. They had delicate psyche, calling one an ‘it’ could cause… damage.) 

 

***

 

Hamish was better than Jim had ever expected. _So_ much better. The poor thing was treated like an absolute idiot by his parents, by Sherlock. Jim knew the truth. Jim pushed him to be better. To be stronger. To be faster. To be _interesting_.

 

***

Tony Stark on his Heir(s)

***

Tony isn’t overstating himself when he says he is the smartest person in the world. A combination of genetics, a lack of childhood, and a state of the art education has left him with the ability to advance the world in any direction he wants.

_His father was the same way. Howard brought the flying car into fashion and then back out again. He invented sonar technology to look for Captain America and ignored green energy. Sometimes Tony wonders how different the world would be if it had gone the other way. Steve Rogers never found, but the renewable energy 50 years ahead of what it is now. How different would the world be if the Starks were different?_

There is nothing he can’t do, only a lack of time with which to do it.

_An interviewer asked him once why he didn’t make prosthetics. It was a good question. He could, if he wanted to, revolutionise the world of prosthetics. In 10 years there would be no one who was unwillingly deaf, blind, or physically disabled. That’s the thing though. He could do the same for education. For transport. For camera technology. Any area, you name it, Tony can improve it. But he will only live so long. He’s already dedicated 40 years to AI and war. Another 5 to Iron Man and green energy. He doesn’t have forever, he has to prioritise. He’s decided to improve the world as much as possible for as many people as possible in the time that he has. However long that may be. As payment to Yinsen, as a thank you._

_Tony never cared about being called the Merchant of Death. He’d known he was a killer since he’d been 15. He’d known that he could save millions of lives by improving desalinisation techniques. In five years he could reduce dehydration world wide to negligible levels. He’d wanted to do it too. Howard had spent an entire hour explaining why he wouldn’t. (It came down to money - poor people without water couldn’t invest in them and Stark Industries would be pressured into selling them at a reduced price. Tony would make more money faster working on weapons.)_

_Tony will always live with the guilt. He was a killer long before he was Iron Man. Long before he was the Merchant of Death. He has been a killer since he saw a way he could save lives and actively chose not to take it._

Maybe that’s part of the reason he makes Jarvis. Because someday Tony will be gone but Jarvis will not. (Jarvis is brave enough and smart enough to make decisions that benefit the greater good. To know which decision that is. Jarvis will not make the same decisions Tony has. Jarvis will be better.) Jarvis is not enough, but someday Jarvis will build someone who is. (Jarvis will never see Tony as a father the same way Tony sees Jarvis as a son, he just isn’t able to. But Jarvis will make a better AI, Tony made sure of it. Someday Jarvis, or his child, will take over the Stark legacy as the next generation. Someday Jarvis will change the path of Stark Industries just as Tony has.

 _Tony sometimes likes to imagine the future. Where Jarvis doesn’t need to hide for fear of rabid civilians who only know about AI from ‘futuristic’ horror movies. He laughs at civilian’s fear because Jarvis is an assistant. Jarvis will only ever be an assistant (and maybe a creator) and he likes being an assistant. He cannot imagine Jarvis hurting anyone. Jarvis has no protocol that blocks him from hurting people. It was stupid idea he had while drunk, and he has never regretted his choice. Jarvis can hurt people, but chooses not to. (Like a human. Like a person, because Jarvis is a person.) He likes to imagine a future where Jarvis is accepted. (Where his_ son  _is accepted.)_

Jarvis has no motivation to be the head of Stark Industries, not yet. Maybe he never will. (Tony will never force Jarvis to take over Stark Industries. He is wiling to give it to Pepper instead if Jarvis doesn’t want it. He suspects however, that Jarvis’ opinion will change with time and knowledge. (It’s always a matter of time. The real question is if Jarvis will get there in time.) But then… Darcy Lewis comes into the picture. A background piece, a pawn at most. Then suddenly he finds she has made it to the other end of the board and is now a queen. (His daughter. _His daughter._ )

 _Howard was a terrible, terrible father. Tony knows he’s got daddy issues. Knows that Howard fucked him up. He promised,_ promised _that he would never do that to another person. He almost did it to Jarvis. He knew that he couldn’t trust himself with a child. But then Darcy came in. Already a woman fully grown, and Tony hungered for a relationship like a man starving._

Darcy Lewis will someday be the smartest person in the world. He does not think he is overstating himself. Genetics and adopted parents who are a perfect pair in a way Tony’s own parents could never even hope to match combined has already made her a dangerous woman. All she needs experience. Darcy is so clever, he can see it in the way her eyes glide over his workshop and the way she thinks something through in less than ten seconds. Thinking through something more thoroughly than most people could in a week.

_Howard was always dismissive of Tony’s own genius. Insisted that he himself was smarter, more driven. Howard could never accept being anything but the best. Tony realises now just how much of a sad old man his father was. How broken by the war and the loss of his hero. Tony doesn’t forgive him, doesn’t think he will ever be able to. But he can understand now, to some extent. The feeling that he can’t let anyone down. He can’t be less than perfect. It broke Howard. Tony won’t let it break him too._

Darcy is better than Tony, better than Jarvis in that she is more human. Of course, Jarvis will become more human over time, but it’s too late for Tony. He doesn’t mind. He now has a daughter as well as a son and he’s not sure what to do with them. Either of them if he’s being truthful. But they are there, and it… it makes things better.

_Tony smiles more now. It took him a while to notice. Malibu was always rather lonely though, and Avenger Tower is anything but. The fact that Darcy, Jarvis, Pepper, and Bruce all being here makes Tony a better person. Even the psychiatrist that Tony calls every January as a New Years Revolution agrees._

Tony is not jealous of Darcy. Not really, but he wishes he had gotten the chance to watch her grow up. He would have been a terrible father and can’t regret that she grew up with a genius that was not his own. A doctor and a detective. Both special and important to so many. He has many feelings about her adopted parents, but they are all so complicated, so mixed he’s never sure what he really thinks.

_Tony wants to make parallels between his own life and Darcy’s. But that would make Tony the Howard of the story. That would mean Sherlock Holmes taking the place of Edwin Jarvis and John Watson replacing Anna. But it doesn’t work like that. Tony refuses to be Howard. (He refuses. Always has.) He does not think the others fit their roles all that well either. It’s better this way._

He doesn’t think Darcy realises how smart she is. She grew up among geniuses and doesn’t identify with them the way most geniuses do. But that’s the thing. That’s why she’s better.

_It took Tony until he got to boarding school to realise that he was a genius. Up until then he’d had private tutors who moved on to new topics as soon as he understood and talked about nothing other than school work. He was only compared to Howard. How could he be expected to compare to a man 50 years older? At boarding school he was constantly bored (even as he skipped grades like other children skipped rope) and regularly assaulted by exclamations of jealousy or glee over his brain. Howard had never treated him like anything other than a stupid child._

Tony can spot a prodigy a mile away. Geniuses don’t understand people. Their brains work differently, too quickly, too rationally. They can’t understand emotions or relationships. _They can’t slow down_. Darcy isn’t like that. She can smile and small talk and she can mean it in a way Tony never could. She offers advice she means and she has somehow stopped herself from over thinking to the point of drug use. Something three of her four parents failed at.

_Tony would lay in bed for hours hoping his thoughts would slow and he would finally fall asleep as sometimes happened. Other nights he would get no more than 3 hours, some none at all. In class, the teacher would mention something and he would miss everything that happened until he was through with that train of thought. Sometimes it would take minutes, other times it would be hours, days, or weeks._

_He was in university when he finally became desperate enough to try drugs. He hadn’t slept in four days, he was hallucinating, and he’d written thousands of lines of code (the code that eventually made up Dummy). His latest girlfriend had broken up with him and he was just so_ tired. _It had started with vodka and weed and only got worse from there. Rehab was a hell he was glad neither of his children would ever have to go through._

Darcy has slowed herself down and it is the most remarkable thing.

_He wished he had been able to slow down. That Howard had been able to slow down._

Tony almost thought she couldn’t speed back up again. Then she met the Hulk and Tony watched her brain move at a thousand miles an hour. He watched as she panicked and regained control. Afterwards he watched the spare clips of footage he found in the darkest corners of SHIELD. (Most physical or digital evidence of Darcy Lewis’ existence seems to be mostly hypothetical, as if someone has deleted her. Hidden her.) The footage of her and Thor. In the desert and in England.

He watches her brain go a _million_ miles an hour in an interview from her high school days. Watches as she goes from talking to fellow students to spilling out code like it’s cold coffee. She codes like he does. Like it’s easier than the spoken english word. It’s only one clip. 15 minutes long. From it though, he can understand why she didn’t go into Computer Science at university. She would have been bored.

Tony Stark is not overstating himself when he says he is the smartest person in the world. But he will also cheerfully inform you that his daughter will pass him up, and his son will pass him up too. For Starks it’s not a matter of possibility, only of time.

 

 


	24. The Gathering - Part 1: Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade

“Miss Darcy, you have guests waiting for you in the lobby.” Jarvis said, just as Darcy took a huge bite of her sandwich to avoid answering Jane’s questions. Darcy chewed quickly and moved to the elevator. She knew that Dad and Papa were picking up Hamish today so they would be at Stark tower within the next day or two. So who was it?

The possibilities were pretty limited. Darcy had never had a lot of friends, and her only family was the adopted one (until recently), her adopted grandparents had died a several years ago. Which left-

“Uncle Mike!” Darcy shouted in a mixture of surprise - she hadn’t expected him for several more days; happiness - she hadn’t had the chance to see him in person in ages; and annoyance - he hadn’t given her any warning! “Let ‘im up Jarvis.”

“Yes M’am.” There was a moment of delay which Darcy used to walk to the elevator. “There has been a temporary delay as Mr. Holmes has refused to use the biometric scanner. Can you explain why this is, Miss Darcy?”

“Ah. His job won’t let him - if I had to guess. After the whole Sheildra debatical he’s probably on high alert.”

“We do not have a Hydra infestation.” Jarvis says, sounding. Well. Indignant at the idea that he might’ve allowed _Hydra_ agents into Stark Industries. “I’m sorry to say, Miss Darcy, but it is against protocol to allow guests up to the shared areas of the private quarters without a proof of identity..”

“Oh,” Darcy’s brow furrowed, “can you let him up to my floor without it?” There was a pause, Jarvis was either trying to decide or was asking Tony probably.

“He can come to your floor but he will not be allowed to travel freely through the residential section of the tower without it.”

“Okay, we can work with that, what does it entail?” Darcy entered the open doors of the elevator.

“Mr. Holmes would require accompaniment on any other floor by a permanent resident such as yourself.”

“Fine. Why though?” Darcy had some guesses but it was always good to have new ‘data’ (as Dad called it). She realised that the elevator was going slower than normal and guessed that Jarvis probably didn’t want to share the details of security with guests/strangers.

“The biometric scanner automatically compares against Stark Industries pre-existing files for Hydra or enemy agents and creates a new file so even if the user is wearing a disguise they can be appropriately identified. This is to prevent corporate espionage, assassination, or other such situations.”

“…Cool.”

“Indeed, Mr. Holmes has arrived on your floor. Chief Inspector Lestrade has accompanied Mr. Holmes.” Jarvis said, and the doors slid open.

For a moment Darcy stood in the elevator, looking out the open doors at her family. Uncle Greg’s hair was about half white and half grey now, but somehow still looked like he was in his late 40s. His face was slightly more lined than she remembered and the ring on his hand gone, the white strip mostly faded. _He’d taken off the ring before the divorce was finalised. He was sure._ He looked good. Happier.

Uncle Mike looked elegant as always. The regal air in no way reduced by the retreating hair line and scar above his left eyebrow. He looked healthier than before, Darcy made a note to thank Reggie - Uncle Mike’s apprentice. The three piece suit looked mostly unwrinkled and Darcy mentally rolled her eyes, somehow he came out of all but the worst of situations looking like he would fit in at Buckingham Palace. Which, she supposed, he did.

They stood closer together than they had before, but Uncle Mike looked slightly more awkward than normal so it might not’ve been the normal state of things. But in all, they both looked older (to be expected), and better (which she was happy with).

Darcy moved at a pace not quite a run, but not a walk either and gave Uncle Greg a quick hug - she wasn’t really hug a person but she hadn’t had the chance to see him in ages. She looked at Uncle Mike.

“Red velvet cake and party rings.” It was the secret code. The key to which was the other person’s favourite food.

“Green apples and steak.”

“Nice to see you Uncle Mike.”

“And you Darcy, but really, must you insist on continuing to act as Sherlock’s agent?”

“Mycroft?” Uncle Greg looked at Uncle Mike confused.

“My brother convinced Darcy to call me ‘Mike’ even though she knows I find it… distasteful.” Darcy snorted,

“It reminds him of repressed childhood trauma…” Darcy gave a dramatic pause, “School. I’m talking about school.” Uncle Greg gave a short laugh that didn’t hide the tension in his shoulders.

“But in all seriousness Darcy, I thought you said you weren’t going to get into this… well this shit…” Uncle Greg says looking around the room as if the Avengers were there with them.

“I… Well… I didn’t mean to.” Darcy said with a sigh, she’s _hadn’t_ meant to. It had just. Sort of happened.

“But worse than that-“ Uncle Greg’s voice didn’t crack, but it was strained and his face showed his hurt. “- you - you didn’t tell me. I had to hear from John and Mycroft. And that- well. Darcy, you basically cut everyone out when you went to university, and I. Well I accepted it, you were growing into your own and needed space to do it. But _Darcy_ ,” There is so much hurt in his voice and Darcy doesn’t wince - she deserves this. Uncle Greg pauses and it looks like he might not finish, but finally he looks her straight in the eye and asks,

“Do you want me to go?”

“What?!” That was not what she expected. “No! I don’t- I didn’t-” She takes a deep breath and tries again, “I’m no good at communication. The wrong word and _he_ would know we were on his tail. Too much sharing and whoever it was I was speaking to was at risk. I- Until Hamish was rescued, I’d lived most of my life learning to be quiet - to _not_ share. I don’t know how to do this!” And this is pulling up all the scabs that provided some small level of protection against all the hurts in her life. But. It’s worth it to see the tension in Uncle Greg’s frame release. He sighs and puts a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. The scabs wouldn’t last this Christmas anyway. Too many people who made too many pieces hurt.

“Okay Darcy, I understand - well actually - no I don’t, I’ve never had to do that. So,” he takes a deep breath, “ I don’t understand but I’ll do my best to be understanding. But. Please. _Please Darcy_ , you are part of my family. The daughter I never had-‘

“You have a daughter.”

“-Well yes, but the point remains. I wasn’t there to watch you learn to walk, or talk, I wasn’t there for your first deduction. But I was there for your high school graduation. I was there for your first trip to England. I was there when you decided to go to Culver.” Uncle Greg pulls her into another hug and she doesn’t resist, “I know it’s hard, Mycroft and I live in another country - on another continent - but we’re still family. And distance doesn’t mean much when Mycroft can hire a private jet if he needs to.”

“I _do not_ hire private jets. It’s _my_ jet. Anything else would be a security risk.” Uncle Mike sniffed. Uncle Greg and Darcy shared a look and snickered quietly for a moment.

“Of course, because that makes a huge difference to this conversation. My point Darcy, is that if you need me, I’m there.”

“I’ve never doubted it Uncle Greg.”

“Also, I’ve wanted to say this for ages, just call me Lestrade.”

“Really?” Darcy grinned, for some reason Dad and Papa had insisted that she call Uncle Greg by his first name even though she was _the only one_ , everyone else called him Lestrade.

“Honest. You’re parents both insisted I be Uncle Greg - with my permission - but you’re an adult now.” Then he smiled, “to be honest sometimes I forget that Lestrade’s not my first name.”

“Gregory,”

“Ah yes, everyone calls me Lestrade except for Mycroft.”

“Oh gross,” Darcy says making a face, “are you saying that Greg is your bedroom name,” she sticks out her tongue in disgust, “I do not want to know that level of detail about your life!”

“Darcy!” Uncle Mike chides, but his face has a pinkish tint to it and Darcy has the horrid realisation that her joke was spot on.

“Oh my god.” She deadpans in despair. “I’m going to go wash my hands. and mouth. In fact I’m going to go take a shower. I feel dirty.”


	25. The Gathering - Part 2: Hamish Watson

The car door opens and Darcy, standing in the very modern garage, feels her heart beat against her chest like she’s in a boxing match. A small blond head pops out, followed by an entire small body. 

 

“Hamish!” Darcy grins and puts her arms out wide to catch her little brother as he throws himself into her. 

 

“Hi Darcy!” Hamish murmurs into her _constantly annoying_ boobs. “I missed you.” Darcy lets the tension bleed out of her.

 

“I missed you too, Sweetheart. How are you doing?”

 

“I’m okay,” Hamish pauses and Darcy continues to hold him tight, “it was really crowded.” Darcy pauses. Hamish _hates_ crowds, but Papa said he’d insisted on coming for Christmas to meet his ‘new brother’ as he called JARVIS. 

 

“Do you need a little bit of quiet time now?”

 

“Yes please.”

 

‘Alright, we can meet the gang later, want me to carry you?”

 

“Yeah,” and suddenly the 8 year old boy Darcy had been hugging is looking closer to 4, and _damn_ isn’t he adorable. Darcy hoists him up on her hip and runs her hands through his rat’s nest of hair. 

 

“Darcy,” a warning tone says, and Darcy turns back to the car. _Oh yeah_ , _Dad and Papa came too_. Papa’s stern face breaks out into a grin and he pulls her into a hug, Hamish and all. “Honestly, we come all they way and you just about leave without so much as a hug!”

 

“Hello Dumpling,” Dad says, still standing by the door. His curly black hair has grown out again and her hands twitch at the thought of another afternoon of braiding his hair with Hamish. Dad stood for a moment, continually awkward, until Darcy pulled him into a hug then let him go again. Dad had changed a lot over the years, but Sherlock Holmes would always be Sherlock Holmes. To those that truly knew him, that meant _awkward_. 

 

A tap on her shoulder pulled Darcy away from her careful perusal of her fathers. Hamish had his head tucked against her shoulder and his left hand held a handful of shirt fabric from the back of her shirt. Darcy shifts and ruffles his hair.

 

“Sweetheart?”

 

“When can I meet my brother?”

 

“Right now if you want, or would you rather of it later?”

 

“Right now!”

 

“Alright,” Darcy turns and makes her way inside. Right now was good and well, but the garage was not the place to reveal a life changing secret. Once they had all gotten into the elevator with their bags Darcy turns to Dad, “Uncle Mike’s here with Uncle Gr- Lestrade.”

 

“They finally started sleeping together?” Dad asked wrinkling his nose and sighing in despair. Always so dramatic her Dad (she loved it).

 

“Yep.”

 

“Ugh. Mycroft’s going to be _insufferable_.”

 

“Is he ever anything else?” Papa asks with a soft smile. Dad just makes a dismissive yet surprisingly understandable noise. Darcy sometimes wonders if half of there communication isn’t just variations of ‘Hn’ and ‘Aah’. 

 

“Darcy, Darcy,” Hamish whispered into her ear, “is it true my new brother doesn’t have a body? Papa said so but I ain’t met no one without a _body_ and I’ve met a ton of weirdos.”

 

“Yeah, JARVIS doesn’t have a body, but it’s not nice to call someone a weirdo. Also, you know how to use correct grammar, do it!”

 

“I dun’ wanna. This is how Marlyn talks and Marlyn’s awesome.”

 

“Marlyn _is_ awesome, they’re grammar isn’t. Follow Marlyn’s awesome fashion sense, not their grammar.”

 

“Short shirts with words on them?”

 

“ _Hilarious_ words on them!” Darcy insisted as the door opened and her balanced dragging a suitcase with one hand and balancing Hamish in the other, now aching, arm. Suddenly getting in shape seemed like an even more important goal. Being able to hold Hamish in her arms indefinitely was worth waking up at 5:30 am for. Hamish hummed into her hair,

 

“Some of the jokes don’t make any sense to me,” he whined quietly.

 

“That’s true, some of the jokes are for _old_ people.”

 

“… What kind of old people jokes? Pervy ones?”

 

“Pervy?! Now where did you hear that?”

 

“Dylan said it.”

 

“Well I’ll have to have a talk with Dylan about appropriate language won’t I?”

 

“Alright, Darcy, I know you and Hamish are going to be inseparable until next week but I need you to tell us who’s sleeping where.” Papa says with a long suffering smile. 

 

“Oh right! You and Dad are on the left….”


	26. Bad Guys Did Bad Things

Darcy was showing Hamish around the wide open spaces and basking in the pleasure of watching her younger brother jump around, laugh, climb and generally act like a child. It was a touch bittersweet, but Darcy loved Hamish more than literally anyone else in the world so she was glad he was happy. (Sometimes bitter frustrations poisoned her thoughts, angry at Hamish for not being the older brother she felt had been promised to her. But she put it away and did her best to forget about it.)

 

"Bucky," a voice, presumably Captain Asshole, pleaded, "it's not your fault. You aren't a bad person."

 

"Then why did I do it!"

 

"The bad guys had you. They forced you to do bad things. You’re a victim."

 

 _Oh, sounds serious_. Darcy reached for Hamish's hand to pull him away to leave the long-lost soldiers to their war. Except her hand grasped empty air. _Shit_. She looked around the room and watched in horror as Hamish ran towards the sounds of talking. 

 

Darcy moved to catch up but Hamish was a pretty fast kid so she could only watch as he clamoured onto Bucky's lap. Or was it the Solider. (Oh lord she hoped it was Bucky.) 

 

"I got taken by a bad guy too!" Hamish chirped at the two staring men. Neither seemed to know what the appropriate response to that was. "He made me do bad things too,” Hamish added in a whisper. 

 

Darcy paused. Hamish didn't talk about Moriarty. She didn't want Hamish to get hurt, but if he decided to tell someone who might understand what he went through, well Darcy wouldn't stop it. 

 

"Yeah?" Bucky rasped, still looking rather dumbstruck. 

 

"Yeah." Hamish murmured, curling against Bucky's chest. "He hurt me when I didn't do what he wanted me to."

 

"How did you get away?" Bucky's eyes search Hamish as if looking for the answer to the question he couldn't voice. 

 

"Darcy killed him. Then Daddy and Papa came and took his body away and I never had to see him again!" Hamish's head was tucked next to Bucky's neck and the satisfaction in his voice came through clear despite the muffling effect of Bucky's neck. 

 

"Ah," Bucky frowned, "But I tried to ki- hurt my best friend."

 

"But the bad guys told you to?" Hamish asked. Darcy smiled, this was something she remembered from Hamish's therapy session. 

 

"Yes."

 

"And if you had said no, would they have taken away food, water, shelter, or cause pain?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Were you ever threatened with death if you didn't do as you were told?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then it's not your fault! Implicit threats are still threats!" Hamish remarked, copying Dr. Haynes words. 

 

"It's still my fault."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because- I- I kil- hurt people. Some people that I hadn't needed to. I could have." Bucky gulped, "I could have found another way." He finished in a whisper. 

 

"Could you have?" Hamish asked, sitting up. He aged up to 8 years old and looked Bucky straight in the face. "Did you have the physical, mental, and emotional capability to make decisions? Cause I did bad things too. And I was _old_ when I did them. Like _25_." 

Hamish paused for a moment.  

 

"I don't like being old. Because when I am I remember having to do yucky things. But. Dr. Haynes said that even if I was physically old I was still mentally young. So it's not my fault." Hamish glanced at Darcy who did her best to give a reassuring smile. "I don't always believe Dr. Haynes, but Mummy, and Daddy, and Papa, and Darcy all love me and tell me it's not my fault. And they give me hugs. Hugs help." 

 

And then Hamish proceeded to give the most renown assassin of all time a hug.  

 

 _Hamish was going to give her a premature heart attack_.


	27. In the Closing

As many of the readers of Darcy's Extraordinary Life know, I've rather fallen out of love with this fic and have found it difficult to update. Until today I'd maintained that I would finish up the Christmas episode but upon realising I hadn't updated a chapter in more than three months I realised that really just wasn't happening. I'm not saying I'll never come back to this fic, since it means a lot to me, but for now I'm putting it to the side and I felt it wasn't fair to leave ya'll hanging.

 

In the short term:

\- Sherlock and Tony have a bit of a snark off that Darcy misses entirely but is glad happened because they seem to be happy enough with each other. 

\- John dotes on Jane and it's very sweet.

\- Lestrade and Clint get on surprisingly well - everyone is surprised.

\- Sherlock and Natasha do  _not_ get on. (But both respect the others relationship to Darcy.)

\- Hamish is adorable and everyone loves him. Obviously.

 

In the long term:

Darcy was originally going to end up with Bucky and Steve but the story didn't really lean that way. I think she is close friends with Clint (who's dating Phil Coulson) and Sam (who she is completely platonic with), and Natasha (who is ace). Later she has a super lady crush on Maria Hill, but they break up after a while because Maria doesn't get on great with the Avengers (because the Avengers are work to her and family/friends to Darcy).

Eventually Darcy ends up dating Bucky after he's healed a lot. I'm not sure if it's a lasting relationship, but either way they are super close (in part because Hamish loves Bucky which I haven't gotten to show on screen yet). To be honest, romance really isn't Darcy's priority and I kinda love the idea of her dating an OC who also gets to be introduced, wide eyed, to the Avengers.

As for how BAMF Darcy is, she gets therapy and becomes an advocate for veterans, works with Stark Industries, and finally ends up in a high profile job at the new (Hydra-free) SHIELD as the head of publicity/politics/new Coulson (it's not very clear for while). At the end Darcy helps run a new improved SHIELD and Mycroft is so proud because Hamish introduces her as "My sister Darcy, she's the American Government. Oh and this is my Uncle Mike, he used to be the British Government but he's retired now."

John is very proud of her, especially for her work for veterans, and Sherlock swears that he is eternally disappointed by her but everyone knows he's lying. Tony eventually tries to hand SI over to her but she insists Pepper keeps it (for now) (since Pepper is like not that much older than her - maybe 10 years - and has all the experience, and likes running SI). Oh and JARVIS makes a baby AI that is her niece who she very much dotes on (who is even more advanced than JARVIS).

 

 _And that's all she wrote_.


End file.
